The 78th Hunger Games
by Shkittles
Summary: "Dear tributes, the Hunger Games are upon us. The time has come for 23 to die, and one to live. Be careful, bold, stealthy, violent, romantic, insane... but above all, be entertaining."  ... That's just sick!
1. SYOT

**IF ANYTHING, PLEASE READ THIS NOTE BEFORE YOU POST A CHARACTER! : look at the list of district placings before you choose a district to put your tribute in (Thats ch. 2)! If it already has a name in it don't try for it. It is first come, first serve! FOCUS! I CAN FEEL YOU LOOKING AWAY! So if I PM you that you didn't get the spot you wanted it's not because I didn't like your character. Try to add more than one district so I have some options. Thanks so much! On with the show...**

Okay so this is/would be my first REAL SYOT story and I'm really excited about it! I actually had a SYOT but I didn't really understand the meaning of it at the time. To the two reviewers I got, Rock Solid and Russian Bastard, if either of you want to submit another tribute you are both garunteed a spot. I'll try to message you about it if I can find you guys. Again, sorry about the deletion, but there weren't enough tributes and I want to do my district reapings in order. Also I firured it would be easier on me to do a regular SOYT (since it is my first). I think that's what confused people before.

So here it is, I only want one tribute per person (for now). If by a certain time I don't have enough tributes and we're sure we're not going to get anymore, I'll let people make another one, but I'll tell you when. I'm going to take sponsors too (no mentors though, I'll make those, but you can tell me what kind of characteristics you'd like your mentor to have if you want)

Here's the tribute check list: Copy and Paste please (it's easier for both of us that way)

Name:

District:

Age:

Appearance (include height):

Personality:

Chosen or volunteered?:

If volunteered then why?:

If Chosen how did they react?:

Family and Friends:

History (Ex. worked all their life, rich, ect.):

Exta details about life prior to the games:

Reaping Outfit:

Interview Style (Clothes):

Interview Style (Ex. Dangerous, evil, humorous):

Arena Outfit:

Open to Allies/Ally:

Open to Romance:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Best Weapon:

Token:

Qualities they hate in other tributes:

Blood Bath tributes can be submitted, but only two, I will submit my own blood bath if there is a place open when all the spots fill.

(If you want to submit stylists you can, but please PM their description, age, personality, how they like to dress, and how they like to dress their tributes. (ex. sexy, sweet, ugly)

Now remember, 23 tributes have to die! And I don't know any of you so there's no way I can play favorites or anything (so don't worry about that). Try to get sponsors! Sponsors actually really help! MAKE your sibilings or parents get a fanfic account and sponsor you! Tell them it's a life and death situation! The reason I'm doing sponsors is because it wouldn't be fair if I got to choose who the 'gifts' went to. Like if you got poisoned, somone could send you medicine and you'd live. Here's how it works: I'll give every sponsor an equal amount of starting points Ex. Bob (a tribute) needs arrows for his bow

Howie (a sponsor) see's this, he has 200 pts., and each arrow costs 10 pts. He (PMs me) and sends Bob 5 arrows. Howie has 150 pts. left. (Say Bob get killed three chapters later OR Howie wants to switch tributes because he thinks Bob is losing, either way, he can sponsor someone else)

Susie (a tribute) needs water. Howie see's this and sends her a gallon of water for 20 pts. Howie now has 130 pts left. Get it?

A sponsor can help different tributes, but once you switch tributes you can't go back to the one you had before. You can Sponsor up to three different tributes. As the games progress, the items get way more expensive, so be careful with your pts. Certain items will not be available until we start to reach the middle/end of the games- like weapons, but their parts will be available earlier (the bow is a prime example). I will let you know what's available to buy at the end of every chapter and PM me about the price/quantity of the item(s). You can try to get someone to partner with you on a tribute, but that would mean you'd have to convince them to switch from their tribute to yours. I will be the link between sponsors. Just PM about partnering with others and I will let everyone know. If you want to be a sponser PM me. At the end of the games I will announce the sponsor(s) of the winner and include you as a character in the stories Victory Chapter!

I plan on at least one tribute dying every chapter until about maybe the last 8-5 chapters (where the last tributes battle very hard). So, no flames please, it's nothing against you, it's just the way the game turned out.

PLEASE READ THIS: let me know in a review if you think this is a good idea- If (and thats a big if) it comes down to very little sponsors, should I let makers of tributes be sponsors? You guys wouldn't be able to sponsor your own tributes though! (Thats just not right) and they would have less pts. than real sponsors. Other than that, same rules apply. Let me know! Remember, even if everyone says it's a good idea, it still might not work out!

MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR!


	2. Sponsor Your Tribute!: Ch will be moved

Tributes please read this! **You** might be able to **save your own character from death**! This WILL take part in the outcome of you characters survival. If you really care you will read!

NOTE: I will move this chapter to third chapter after a couple days, or if I get a district 1 male tribute sooner than that.

SPONSORS

Okay, so lets face it, without sponsors tributes die- FAST! I haven't got one offer of sponsorship and I don't think I will. I'm changing up the rules on the sponsoring.

I read a couple of SYOTs and got some pretty good ideas about this whole deal. Here's how it's going to work.

**The owner of a tribute CAN sponsor their own tribute**. I will give you each a certain amount of starting points that you will have to make last (and you will be able to build upon) throughout the games.

**You can earn more points by doing reviews and PMing me your stylists**. Reviews will be worth 5 points each, PMing a stylist to me will be worth 20 points. Now this doesn't mean you get 30 points if you post six reviews for each chapter (haha, thought you were clever, huh?), you only get 5 pts. for one review per chapter. The reviews that have already been submitted will count, so **congrats to Drama Provider and Twirlgirl821! They are a step ahead of everyone else**, but you can catch up! Reviews for SYOT instructions, district listings, and these instructions do not count. Submit a review for the real story.

The items are the same, they will get more expensive as the games progress. I will let you know when the games start what is available to buy. You will PM what you want for your character, I will sell it to you for a reasonable amount of pts. and** you MIGHT be able to save him/her**. Be careful with your pts. if they run out it's not my fault, it's just the way the ball rolled. I say 'might' because** your character could still die**. Please don't be discouaged by this (if your character dies) you can still help who you think should win by sending them gifts with left over pts. You will be able to send me your pts. with the request of the tribute you'd like to sponsor, and then I will send them to the owner of the tribute with your name included (if you wish it to be). I think it would be pretty neat if people actually did that.

**Here's a form for the Stylists: please PM this to me!**

Name:

Age:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

A little History:

I know this is a short form, but it's 20 pts. and it's not all about the stylists anyway. I will know who my dedicated readers are. People need to realize that the less they do to ensure that their tributes survive, the less they really care. **The people who review and do extra stuff for pts. will have tributes that last longer. While most of this is very random, I will not let somebody who just submitted a character and then didn't even bother reading the story win when there are readers who actually try. **

Thank you to Drama Provider and Twirlgirl821! And to anyone else who chooses to review! The biggest thank you goes to all of you though, for submitting a tribute to begin with! Thank you so much! :)

P.s. I haven't read the books in a while and I forgot that the tributes are all suposed to wear the same thing in the arena! It's not fair that I know what kind of environment their in and you don't. I'm sorry about that. I will have to make your arena outfits. So those of you who don't read this and get frustrated with me can't say I didn't warn you. I will try to keep to the colors and such that you picked though.


	3. Sponsor Pts: Informational Ch

Note: the best way to earn points is by reviewing, even if your review reads like this- "OMG this is the most God Awful crap I've ever read in my life, I'd rather eat needles than ever read this chapter again!" You will still get 5 points for your opinion. And, yes, I'm being honest. Nothing you say can hurt my feelings, i'll just use it to try to make my writing better.

Okay, so this is the list of how many points you have as a sponsor for your own tribute (or another's if yours dies and you have left over points you wish to share). **Please check your name to make sure you have the appropriate amount. You will be responsible for your own points**. If your character is in trouble during the games and you do not notice (due to illness, vacation, or because you just haven't gotten to get on Fanfiction in a while) I will PM you a notice about what's available for your character and how many pts. you have to use. You will have a limited amount of time to comply before your tribute seals his/her own fate. But, do not count on me to send you a warning (I'm completely capable of mistakes). If I forgot to add points for anything you've done, let me know and I will put them in. Like I said before you can earn points by reviewing for each chapter. I will also provide oppurtunities for more points later on (Perhaps for more characters, or maybe I'll do some polls). I will let you know when this happens.

Note: Reviews for informational chapters Do Not count.

**The whole point of this list is just to remind you. Don't quote me on the points because I could be wrong. Try and keep track of your own points along with this list.**

**Sponsors Points **

**(Twirlgirl821): 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 3 for poll, 5 for review**

**(theatregurljj): 5 for review, 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(Midnightxwolfx): 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 3 for poll, 5 for review**

**(Drama Provider)** **: 5 for review, 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 3 for poll,**

**(Funny Horsey): 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(Imafreakintaco3): 20 for stylist**

**(Chasing Fairy Tales): 5 for review, 20 for stylist, 5 for review**

**(Erockhp7): 5 for review, 5 for review, 3 for poll**

**(Team Cato): 5 for review**

**(Yelof530): 5 for review**

**(jakeadamv): 20 for stylist**

**(Mind-Scultor): 5 for review**

**(jesster2345): 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(Awsomazing11): 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(LittleAsian)**

**(xFroggyFernyCabbagex): 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(xxxBookwormLonerxxx): 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(InsaneRussianBastard): 5 for review, 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, **

**(Wolf-hidden-in-the-shadows): 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(The fabulous killjoy)**

**(Jac Danvers): 20 for stylist, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review**

**(The Nanny is About): 5 for review**

**The following people do not have tributes in this SYOT, but are potential sponsors and do have characters within the story. I will give them opportunities to create characters for points, the same rules apply to the reviewing- 5 points per review. Each individual is starting out with an orginal amount of points that they can build on. They can answer questions for points, and take part in polls.**

**(Blue Star33): 35 starting points, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 5 for review, 20 for interviewer **

**Another note: If you have a stylist and I didn't submit it it's probably because you PM'd it to me. I'm going to look through my mail today to make sure I didn't miss anything- my inbox is going nuts! :) But, I guess that's a good thing!**

**Again, please notify me if I have messed up your points. I will try to update this list as soon as possible. If you have made a review and I didn't give you or anyone else pts. it's more than likely because I haven't had the chance to update. **

I want to remind everyone of this important fact: This is just a fanfic, try not to get mad at me when I kill off your character. If you're reading this it's more than likely that I will. Remember, this is all for fun and entertainment (however sick that may sound that's totally not the way I meant it haha). I will try to make your tribute last as long as I can though, even if they're stabbed in the stomach or something I will try to stretch out their story over a couple chapters.


	4. District Listings:First come First Serve

One bloodbath is available to make, who ever gets to it first gets it. Please specify that it is a bloodbath. (You can make a bb even if you have alreadly made a tribute). Thanks for the awesome tributes I've gotten so far! I can't wait to get this thing going!

District 1: Luxury goods

**Female: Lorraine "Rain" Lattanzi 18 (Twirlgirl821)**

**Male: Antherton Desby 16 (Jac Danvers)**

District 2: Gemstone Mining

**Female: Starr Delby 15 (theatregurljj)**

**Male: Zane Wolf 17 (Wolf-hidden-in-the-shadows)**

District 3: Technology

**Female: Claire De leon 15 (Midnightxwolfx)**

**Male: Newton 'Newt' Gordon 17 (The Nanny is About)**

District 4: Fishing

**Female: Hazel Cresta 15 (Drama Provider)**

**Male: Ray Archer 17 (Funny Horse)**

District 5: DNA

**Female: Monique Steel 16 (Imafreakintaco3)**

**Male: Timothy Jones 14 *Bloodbath* (jesster2345)**

District 6: Scientifc Research

**Female: Maia Colt 16 (don'..me)**

**Male: Erik Traub 15 (Erockhp7)**

District 7: Lumber

**Female: Phoebe Taylor (Team Cato)**

**Male: Forrest Clarke 17 (Yelof530)**

District 8: Textiles/clothing

**Female: Natalie Catherine McCartney 17 (The fabulous killjoy)**

**Male: Zach Crado 15 (jakeadamv)**

District 9: Processing/manufacturing

**Female: Pipple 'Pip' Tron 13 (Yelof530)**

**Male: Ryan Perry 14 (Mind-Scultor)**

District 10: Livestock

**Female: Laveda Sodaet 13 (xFroggyFernyCabbagex)**

**Male: Zack Thrasher 17 (jesster2345)**

District 11: Agriculture

**Female: Kenya Roseheart 17 (xxxBookwormLonerxxx)**

**Male: Nikolai Gregorovich 17 (InsaneRussianBastard)**

District 12: Coal Mining

**Female: Iris Bloom 12 (Awsomazing11)**

**Male: Daryl Rivers 16 (LittleAsian)**


	5. Part One of District One Reapings: Rain

District One Reaping

_Lorraine "Rain" Lattanzi-_

Steam rises off my body as I step out of the hottest bath I've ever taken. I had taken a shower before that as well. One to get me clean, another to make me smell delicious. The whole bathroom reeks of the cinnamon soap I used. Wrapping a towel around myself, I skip into my closet full of lush brand new dresses. Fishing for one that would due for today's activities, I find a blue halter dress with a v-neck cut. Smiling I pull it on, it fits perfectly. The fabric swirls gently around my legs as I walk in the gown. It covers most of the scars I obtained during training. The sealed cuts ran greedily along the surface of my skin, into the flesh just beneath. There were too many to count.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I toy with my token- a gorgeous diamond neclace in a tear drop cut. It reflects all the sunlight that is currently swimming inside my room. Closing my eyes, I hold onto the jewl dearly; this was it, my day was finally here. All the training and diligent work I had committed to my dream was getting ready to amount to something. I had trained for the Games every day since I was six. I even trained through sickness and tradgedy. Hell, the day my older sister Jade came home as victor of the Hunger Games, I was training instead of welcoming her back. She was sixteen at the time, I was smarter and waited until I was eighteen, that way I could get two more years of preparation in.

Getting up, I hopped into my bathroom and over to the mirror. I searched the mass of make-up scattered across the surface of the glittering marble counter before me. How much should I wear? Usually I don't get very girly, it's just not my style. However, my mother had insisted I wear at minimum two items. Curling my lips in slight disgust, I threw on some foundation, then looked up at my reflection. Hey, that's actually not too bad, but what else? My fingers found themselves tightening around a tiny tube of black mascara. I stroked my lashes with the brush until each individual one stood to dark attention. It kind of made my green eyes pop, so I didn't mind.

I mess around with my hair, putting it up, and down, and half down. Then a revelation hits me. A braid would be perfect! Not to flashy not to plain. What kind of braid though? A running side, or a frech braid? In the end I settle for a curly ponytail, nothing close to what I had planned on.

"RAIN! Come on, do you want to be late for your own party?"

I cringed a little when my mom's voice calls to me from downstairs, echoing through the numerous halls into my room.

"Yeah, I'm coming! Just give me a sec!" I yelled over my shoulder. I got no answer back, I could picture in my mind dad rolling his eyes into the back of his head. I gaze into the mirror. _Focus._ Focus is key. Focus could be the difference between life and death. I breathed in and then out, and repeated the process about ten more times. Giving the sink a pat, I turned on my heels and marched out of my room down to the front entrance of my family's elaborately decorated mansion.

Once I had flung the door open and took a step outside I swept of my feet by a pair of strong arms. I started yelling obsanities and hitting Zircon's back as he spun me in the air. I didn't have to see the face to know the name, few people dared to play with me like this.

I laughed hysterically, "Zircon! Put me down you idiot! In case you haven't noticed I'm wearing a dress!"

He put me on my feet and smiled down at me, "Congrats hottness! Looks like the workaholic is finally getting her chance to upstage her big sis!"

Punching his chest playfully I narrowed my brows at him, "Keep talking like that dork. In a few weeks I'm going to be the star of this whole district, and your still only going to have your mouth!"

Before Zircon can say anything he's booty bumped out of the way by Scarlet. "Move it girly lips, our turn."

Scarlet and Star both trap me in a bone crushing hug. I actually choke for air a bit, "Okay- th-thats enough!" I push them back and inhale deeply.

They're smiling brightly and Scarlet is clapping her hands. "Oh, I'm so excited Rain! We all know you're going to win!"

"Yeah, but we're really going to miss you." Star hugs me again, but this time it's real affection. I can feel the sadness in the action.

We pull apart and I grin at her with utter determination, grabbing her shoulders I see the tears begining to swell in her eyes, "Aww, thats so sweet, you're cying for the losers that have to come face to face with me."

She laughes and rubs her nose, sniffling. "Yep. I know you'll win."

Next to embrace me are all my sibilings. Jaz and Chanel lock me in their loving arms, and let go after a few moments. Jaz pretty much just walks off, the little jerk. Chanel pats the side of my head, "It'd be cool if we could both go, we'd be a riot. But, you're a shoe in to win, I know you don't need me." In her I see myself. My own 5"8, brown haired, green eyed self.

I smile at my identical twin sister. "Are you kidding? I'm glad you can't go! I'd be so worried about your tiny butt I'd probably be killed in no time!"

No one laughs at this, I shouldn't have brought up getting killed. However, like usual Zircon lightens the mood with a bad joke, "Hey, don't make fun of her rear, it's yours too!"

I glare at him, "Mine's not made of flab!"

My mom and dad walk up to me then. Mom closes around me and I hug her close, breathing in her scent. "I love you." I whisper into her silk blouse. She looks down at me and smiles fondly, "I love you too, darling."

All of a sudden she backs away, "Don't cry! You'll ruin your make-up!" She furrows her forehead some, "What little you have on. You did put on at least two, right?"

I huff and roll my shoulders, "Yes, mom." Great, a beautiful moment ruined by a snotty speach about animal bi-product filled goop, made by none other than the woman that gave birth to me.

My dad clears his throat, "Um, you look good." He sticks out his hand, and for a moment I just stare at it. Really? A handshake? With one eye tweaking, I connect palms with him, and awkwardly move my arm in an up and down motion. He lets go and runs his fingers through his brown hair, his blue eyes searching for something. "Win." He commanded, "It would look really good if we had two Hunger Games victors for children."

As if on cue, Jade steps in front of him. My oldest sister, and the shadow I live in. She wraps her arms around me, her long dirty blonde hair tangling around us in the breeze. When she releases, I force a smile. She grabs my chin, as if inspecting me, "Of course she'll win. She's a Lattanzi."

After that we all pile into a huge stretch limo, and I'm whisked off to the reapings.

Once there, I exchanged greetings with potential tributes. One of them will be reaped, and then I'll save their sorry self from destruction. Everyone scurries over to me to gush about how they keep hearing that none of the girls are volunteering this year because they know I'm going to. Smiling at this, I just act like it's no big deal- even though it is. The Games are my life, like literally.

Standing in the 18's crowd, I crane my neck to get a better view. Our mayor has just finished his mandatory speech about the capitol. Naturally I tuned out the whispers of boredom and irritaion with the man from my fellow peers. Then the real show starts. Some lady with pink tinted skin and green hair mounts the stage and taps the microphone. I vomit a little in mouth at the appearance of her. Ew. Yuck. Gross.

"Good morning, District One! And such a fine morning it is! Allow me to begin the reapings of two very lucky young people! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

The audience roars with excitement and I narrow my eyes at them. Shut up, so we can her you dummies. They quiet, though, without my help, as she draws out a slip of paper from the girls bowl. "Ahem. This years Hunger Games contestant is, Tally Ping!"

Everyone claps as a girl of fourteen steps onto the stage, she smiles nervously. Lucky for her, I'm here. I raise my hand in the air, and yell "I Volunteer!" before anyone can get another word in. Star and Scarlet grab a wrist and give me a loving squeeze, I walk backwards a few steps, holding either's hand in my own grip, and looking at them one final time before I'm forever changed by the games that await me. Then, I turn and walk towards the stage, giving my twin sister a high five as I pass her, she whispers "Knock 'em dead." I laugh at the irony.

When I find myself next to Tally, I catch a glimse of thanks in her eyes. What she doesn't know is that I didn't do it for her, I did it for me. The pink 'woman thing' is very excited and jumping up and down, while the crowd is cheering for my brave, courageous act.

"And what is your name sweetie?"

She holds the mike in front of my mouth and I grimace, "My name is Rain. Lorraine Lattanzi." She goes to take the microphone back but I grab it before she gets very far. "By the way, I'm not sweet." I study all the people observing me for a few seconds. "No, I'm not sweet. Not by a mile."

For some reason I search for my dad after saying this. I spot him off to the side surrounded by a bunch of other men. I smirk, all the years of aggression and pressure from him have landed me here. Are you happy now, daddy? It doesn't matter, I'm happy. Everywhere I went, it seemed like I stood on the outside, now I was where I belonged. The one place I truly fit in.

Pinky draws the mike to her own lips, "Well, we are all very proud of you! Why did you choose to volunteer? Did you know Tally?"

I shake my head, "No, I just know I can win, and so does everyone else."

Her eyes widen with amusement, "Oh. Well, good luck to you."

She reaches for the boys bowl of names, I don't know why she bothers, someone will probably volunteer. Someone I might know. Someone I'll have to kill. Yes. Let the games begin.

**So, thats it for now. Sorry about any errors, I was kind of tired when I wrote it. This one is short because I don't have a boy tribute yet. I only posted it to give you guys a little taste of my writing. Let me know what you think! I'll write district 2 male like this (it's just him in the next chapter) but then after that all the tributes will be paired up in every chapter until after the reapings. (Like my next chapter is D1 boy, and then the next chapter is both D2 tributes, so it's the same concept but double in length because I'm telling the seperate story of two people) Each individual tribute will have a reaping scene about as long as this one for Rain. Then I'll do the train, and then the interviews, and then the chariots, and finally the begining of the games. I NEED MORE TRIBUTES!**


	6. District One reapings: Part two

_Antherton Desby:_

Looking in the full body length mirror, I flexed my biceps in the tightest muscle t-shirt I have ever owned. It happened to be white, not my favorite color since it signified purity and other such bull, but I could make it work. My designer pants didn't look bad either, they were also pretty constricting. They did well showing off most of my leg muscle. Again I studied my reflection, turning to see what I looked like from every angle. Satisfied, I crossed my arms over my chest, and tried to work on a menacing facial expression.

Cocking a brow at myself one final time I walked over to a small dresser that stood beside my bed. Pulling a drawer open I sifted my fingers through the crap inside until I found what I was looking for. I tossed a tiny white box into the air and caught it with one hand, popping the lid open with my thumb I flipped a white pill out into my palm. Examining it for a few moments, I sat on the mattress and inserted the drug into my mouth. Steroids. My brother had introduced them to me when I was nine. Ever since they have been my lifeline. With these little babies I had gained around an extra hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle since childhood. They had helped me kill my first fellow human being.

That was another thing that I had experience in that other tributes didn't. I had killed people. I was keeping track at one time, but I lost the paper so I just assumed the number of deaths now. It felt really good to be so powerful, to know that nothing could touch me. Degrading and hurting others was like a drug similar to steroids, only difference was that I could usually satisfy that urge for free. I'm a complete beast, and everyone knows it. No one ever tries to stop me though, they are all way to cowardly.

Sure, people hated me, but I didn't care and I still don't. They could go to hell, I was going to be a champion. Just like my father, grandfather, and brother. It was one of the rarest oddities about district two. Nobody had a family like the Desby's. We were one of a kind, winning was practically in our blood. _Killing_ was in our blood.

Everyone says that I'm the craziest of the Desbys thus far. They say they've never seen anything like me; my brother Paolo may be as ripped as I am, but he's not nearly as cruel. He says one of his greatest weaknesses while he was in the arena was lack of strength. Paolo regrets that fact, but I'm not going to fail in this area.

However, my older sibiling also regrets giving me the pills. A couple weeks ago he tried to talk me out of taking them so often. He said I looked like I was about to explode, mentally and phisically. Paolo's lucky he happens to be close family, otherwise he wouldn't be alive. I don't take crap from anyone. For as long as I could remember I've been the bully, never the bullied.

Looking down at the small white box I considered taking another one as a booster or something. I wouldn't have them in the arena. This thought actually made me cringe, I've been taking these consistently for years; how was I going to do without them?

Just then the door to my room flew open, Paolo stood there, all business like. "You ready?"

I held up the pill box and rattled it, grinning like a fox. He simply nodded, "Alright then, lets get going."

Jumping off my bed I threw the steroids back into the dresser and took one last look in my mirror. "Damn... I'm sexy."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we leave now? I swear, are you a future Hunger Games victor or a potential beauty queen?"

For some reason I laughed at this instead of getting angry. I was about to volunteer for the games, the one thing that's ever really had meaning in my life. There was no way anyone could upset me right now. "Lets go."

My father, sister, grandfather and mother were all waiting in the car. When I went to get in after Paolo, the car squealed and tipped. It rocked some while I tried to situate myself inside. With dad at the wheel the automobile jerked forward and raced towards the reapings at law breaking speed. "How do you feel?"

My mother placed a hand on my knee and watched me knowingly, I shrugged and looked out the window "Ready to win some games and kill a whole bunch of people I guess."

She frowned and retreated, "I hope you win babe."

"Please! Hope? Have you seen the size of that boy, woman?" My grandfather turned to glance at us from the front passenger seat, "If he don't win then somebody's cheatin'."

Dad smiled proudly, "Yep, we got us another victor here. God, I can't wait to see you out there in that arena, son. Just wait, you'll see. It's like your whole life has lead up to that moment." He began to use hand gestures, "When you get out there, and you smell the blood and feel the adrenaline pump through you, it's like a whole other world."

He rolled down his window, and stuck his head out shouting, "You hear that district one? We got us a champion in here."

My brother began to whoop and grandpa laughed.

My sister, Carina smiled brightly then asked, "What am I going to do without you? Who's going to beat up all the boys that try to look at me?"

Nothing got me going like the stupid little twits that tried to hit on my sister. I actually killed one of them once. He was a snot nosed red-headed brat who had his hand on the small of Caina's back, he screamed when he saw me come at him. The dude began to run but I reached out and literally lifted him off the ground by his head. Before I knew it his neck had snapped, and I had gotten in a little more practice for the games. The peacekeepers didn't do anything about the whole ordeal, they'll keep their mouths shut about pretty much anything for the right price.

"We're here."

We all filed out of the car, I grabbed Carina's hand and kelt down. "Tell those punks to keep their dirty hands to themselves or I'll kill them. You understand me?"

She smiled and bobbed her head up and down. Then she flitted off towards the 12s crowd, where she would stand with all the girls her age. My family dispersed and I was left to navigate my way to the 16s section. I tripped a couple people on purpose and even got a punch in when some guy wouldn't get out of my way. I told him to move and he didn't even aknowledge my presence. Tapping his shoulder he turned around and I gave him a present- my famous right hook. He fell to the ground in a dazed and bloody heap, clapping my hands together I spit on him and stepped over his convusing body, thanking him for making some room. After that everyone parted so I had plenty of space.

When all was said and done, the mayor walked off the stage after his stupid speech, and a pink woman took his place- this years escort. Man the capitol was capable of some crazy stuff. She looked like extraterestrial material.

She gave some sort of greeting and drew a name out of the girls bowl first. The choosen chick slowly advanced up the steps and shuffled across the stage. Like I knew someone would, another girl volunteered. _Lorraine_. I had heard some rumors that she would be volunteering this year. Just like me she had been practicing for this since she was a kid. But, I had one thing she obviously didn't; strength. Grinning I cracked my knuckles, man it was going to be fun crushing that tiny wind pipe in her throat. She said something about not being sweet which was true but that didn't mean she wasn't weak, and then stated she knew she could win.

Rain may have thought that before, but either she didn't know I was volunteeing, or she did and was making this some kind of challenge. The pink woman reached for the boys bowl and pulled out a slip.

"Timber Frater."

A fat, red faced boy heaved his way up to the stage. I couldn't help it, the waiting was killing me, I went ahead and raised my hand in the air, "Don't bother. I volunteer."

Timber flashed me a relieved expression and actually jogged back to his prior place among the other guys his age. I bet that's the most work he's ever done in his life, pig.

I stalked towards the escort and jumped onto the stage, not even taking a glance at the stairs.

"Oh, well, my, you're a big boy. Tell me what's your name?"

Big boy? What the hell? She noticed the anger flood my eyes, and I roughly took the mike out of her grip, "It's Antherton Desby."

Her brows arched in curiosity at this detail, "Desby? Your family has some positive relations with the Hunger Games does it not?"

I nodded, and she continued, "Why did you volunteer?"

"To add to the history of my family. We haven't lost yet and I'm not about to be the weak link in the strongest chain Panem has ever seen."

Grinning like a cat, the escort turned towards the camera crews, "District one! May I present, your Hunger Games competitors this year!"

The lady actually had the nerve to grab my hand and hoist it into the air along with Lorraine's, like we were some boxing champs. _Stupid ditz_, didn't she know there couldn't be two winners in one ring?

After a moment of roaring cheers and applause, she released us and awaited the traditional handshake that took place between district parteners.

Lorraine narrowed her perfectly plucked brows, and stuck out her hand reluctantly. I took it and pulled her into a hug, "I'm sorry about all this." I said to her, "You seem like a 'sweet' little girl, and even though you're my district buddy, I'm still going to have to kill you in the end."

Shoving me away she snatched her hand back and glared daggers at me, "I don't think so, 'Tiny'."

I laughed as we faced the crowd to wave victoriously, "Be careful, once you challenge me there's no going back."

"Me, turn back? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Through clenched teeth we snarled at each other, then we were carted away by peacekeepers to say our goodbyes and be loaded onto the train that would take us to the capitol. My blood was pumping furiously, and my heart was beating ten thousand miles an hour. I was aching so bad to kill me some tributes that my entire body was shaking- or maybe that was the steroids. Holy Hell! Either way this is going to be so much fun.

**Note: Well, that's it for now. Antherton's not the nicest guy is he? But, every Hunger Games story needs its antagonistic characters. He should make things a little interesting. Thank you for the tributes guys! I'm happy to announce that all spots are filled and I can really start working on this story! If you want to you can tell me how you'd like your tributes to act on there train rides to the capitol. You don't have to though, the train scenes are just another way to show off the characters personality. But if there's something you'd like them to do I'll try to fit it in. About mentors- I will put up a form for them pretty soon- Thanks to Midnightxwolfx who reminded me that there are in fact 2 mentors for each district except for 12- and people will recieve points for them. The form will probably be short, because lets face it, the mentors aren't going to be in the story that much. Um... I don't think I'm forgetting anything other than that. :) woot woot! **


	7. District 2 Reapings: Starr & Zane

District 2 Reapings

_Starr Delby:_

I stuffed my head through the top of my strapless dress, it had a bubble style to it and accentuated my curves nicely. Another plus was the electic blue color of the silk fabric, it matched the hue of my eyes perfectly. Spinning in it, I watched as the hem flowed out a couple inches. With a bit of a smirk I walked over to my closet and decided on a pair of strapy blue shoes with one inch heels. Slipping my feet into the expesive foot wear, I danced over to my mirror to observe my appearance.

The outfit suited me well, I liked that it was edgy and kind of sexy at the same time. It was sure to attract sponsors, I would definetly stand out among the crowd. I had been contemplating what I should wear for the event for some time.

Training with other careers was easy enough, and not to be conceited, I actually did very well. I knew I was violent enough for the games, my trainer had told me so himself. I had a harsh personality all together, and strong will power. What if I got picked? The Mayors daughter, "Victor of the Hunger Games". I wasn't going to be flashy like most careers, and I definetly wasn't going to volunteer. The fact that I was only 15 years old didn't help my predicament either, my parents dissaproved of anyone volunteering before their final year. Not that it matters, if I wanted to volunteer I would. Unlike eager fellow peers, who's minds are too weak to even weigh the options, I realized that the older I got, the more training I got. I wouldn't let my petty urges and desires get in the way of my chance at victory. Still, if I got reaped today, I'd be willing and able.

Looking up at my reflection I leaned in and saw a darkness under each eye. Last night had been hard on me. I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep; my mind was restless. After watching the District One Reapings I had witnessed the competition that was already begin to brew between tributes. Those two looked like wolves ready to attack each other, the only problem was I had trouble telling which was prey and which was predator. That boy was awfully big, but the girl looked pretty detirmined. Both seemed equal in danger, I needed to get ahead of the game and start to consider possible strategies.

Waltzing into my bathroom I powdered my face, and touched up the skin beneath my lids. I scattered some blush across my cheeks, and encased my dry lips in a layer of rehydrating chap stick. I spritzed a small amount of expensive perfume on each wrist and then rapidly ran a brush through my long golden locks. Perhaps I was rushing it, but I couldn't help myself. No way was I going to be late for the best day of the year because of beauty enhancing products.

With each minute ticking by my heart raced faster and faster. Man that adrenaline could do things to a girl. I steadied myself on the counter, concentrating on controlling my breathing and raging ticker.

"STARR?"

The voice of my father from the opposite side of my bedroom door startled me so much that when I turned to answer him I knocked a few things off the edge of the counter. I winced at the crashing sound the jars made when they connected with the ceramic tile floor.

"Is everything okay in there honey?"

"YES! Just a minute, dad. I'll be right there!" I got down on my knees and began to scrape up the fallen objects.

"Take your time, we've got plenty of it." Hurridly I chunked the items into the sink, and ran to meet my dad out in the hall.

He smiled fondly and smoothed out my hair, "You look beautiful. Really beautiful."

I grinned and he pulled me into one of his famous bear hugs. His above six foot frame could entrap a person like you wouldn't believe. I got my own tall height from his side of the family, and supposedly the looks from my mothers.

"Thanks, daddy."

Releasing me after a few moments he put his arm out and I took it as he led me down the stairs. He kept patting my hand lovingly, I studied his features,

"Is everything okay Mr. Mayor?"

I elbowed him playfully as his grip tightened over my own hand, he didn't like it when I called him that. Even though he was the Mayor of the entire District, the tiring occupation had taken a few years off his life. When he started the campaign for Mayor, he looked like he was about 30. However, now with his greying hair and slightly wrinkled skin he looked like he could use a few months of nothing but sleep.

"Of course. I'm just a little nervous."

"I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous, dad."

His response was just a deep breath as we marched out of our house towards the family car. The blinding amount of light made me squint my eyes.

Our butler opened the door for me. Usually he didn't do things like that, but this was a special occasion. I smiled at him,

"Thanks."

He nodded generously, and I jumped inside. I scooted over to my mom and couldn't help but to hop up and down some in excitement. My sister, Gabriella rammed into me and squished me against my mother.

"Well, you two look like you're having fun."

"Not- really!" Gritting my teeth I freed a leg and kicked Gabriella in the butt, thus semi- catipolting her over to the door. She laughed and resituated herself in her seat. My sibiling then commensed to rubbing her backside, and inspected the damage.

"Dang, you didn't have to do that. You have heels on."

I shrugged, and reached over to hug my mom. She rubbed my arm, and put her head on top of mine. "You look gorgeous. You both do."

The ride to the reapings was short, and since my dad was mayor, we had a valet. When my sister and I had filed out of the car, he was given about two whole seconds to wish us luck before he was whisked away towards the press, and the stage that would soon be mounted by a couple of possible Games champions.

I gave Gabriella a quick hug and made my way over to my age group. It all consisted of flashing a few brilliant smiles here and there, and conversing hurridly with people I didn't even know. When my dad walked across the stage, I couldn't help but beam with pride. He looked kind of regal and refined, but fair and stern.

"Good afternoon District Two."

Someone behind me scoffed and muttered a type of snyde insult, I jerked my head around to see who it was. Some tiny brunette off to the left in the row behind mine smirked at me when our eyes met. I glared at her, and was it just my imagination, or did I bare my teeth a little? Anyway, she backed off and sort of folded in on herself.

Satisfied with her reaction I whipped my attention back towards my dad. He talked of prior rebellions, the latest and most popular failed one attempted by Katniss Everdeen. Then spoke of how our district should be proud to have the most Hunger Games victors. I couldn't help it, he was my father, but even I found myself getting a bit annoyed by the speech. It wasn't his fault, it was manditory, but couldn't he at least speed up?

However, before I know it, a pale skinned man with no hair and flashing clothes stood infront of us. He cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit then stumbled back. Uh-oh. Somebody was drunk.

"Uh, good evening." Someone jogged up to him, it looked like a peacekeeper, and whispered somthing to him quickly. He then raced off the stage, leaving the escort stiff with an obviously uncomfortable emotion. "I mean, good afternoon, District... uh... District 2." There was a pause, "Okay, I'm just going to come out and say it. I might have had a little to drink." He put his arms out like, 'hey, not my fault' and rocked with the sudden motion, "Exscuse me for getting pumped over the Games!"

The whole crowd erupted with cheers of delight. Way to turn it around dude, I thought to myself.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!"

Without saying much else he teetered forward and fished for a girls name. I crossed my fingers and bowed my head. What for? Did I want to get chosen? Did I want to stay here at home? I would soon find out I guess. Either way, I was ready for both options.

"Uh..." He squinted at the slip. You know how in cartoons the animated characters have steam come out of there ears and there skin goes blood red when they get mad? Well I'm pretty sure I looked something like that, because people were backing away from me. God! If I could just go up there and kick his butt off the stage! He was so drunk he couldn't even read!

Another peacekeeper came up to him, looked at the paper and I'm guessing told him the name. The escorts brows went up and he turned it over. AHHHH! The idiot! It was upside down!

"Starr Delby."

People gasped. Literally inhaled audible breaths. I did a fist pump and pushed through the crowd towards the stage. Skipping up the steps I ran towards the drunken escort.

"Congratulations! Tell us your name."

He shoved the microphone in my face, and I arched a brow at him, "Why? You just read it off the slip."

Everyone laughed. I didn't mean to be humorous, I was being serious. He smiled and I saw gold and blue teeth flash beneath his lips, this made me curl my own in disgust.

"Then... how do you feel about getting picked?"

I thought for a moment about how to answer that, "I feel, prepared. Oh, and by the way, I don't want anyone to volunteer for me. I accept the challenge."

The audience clapped in favor of my statement and our escort grinned evily.

With that he reached for the boys glass bowl next. I studied the crowd, breathing deeply. For some strange reason, I felt proud. It was like I was doind some great deed for all of District Two. I crossed my arms over my chest and listened for the name of my partener. Hopefully it would be someone with abilities complementary to my own. I would gain his trust, and the rest of my allies trust as well when it came time to start the games. I'd let my fellow careers kill all the weak opponenets. Then I'll pick my own allies off one by one.

Anything that it took to win- that was my primary strategy.

_Zane Wolf:_

I woke up to a sudden burst of sunlight, sitting up abruptly I saw that Windle, the guy that was currently letting me sleep in his garage, had two steaming cups of coffee in his hands and a sad smile on his face. Offering me one of the refreshments, I took it gratefully and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes.

"How ya doin' kiddo?" His voice was cracking, along with his delicate frame. He had been an old friend of my fathers. I remembered bits and peices every now and then- memories of him hanging around our house.

"I'm fine." I hold up the coffee, "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged and sipped at his own mug, "It's just a drink." He sat next to me on my cot.

All the adults around here helped me, giving me things like food and shelter. Most had known the members of my family to be generous and fair, and even though they were long gone, I'd never really gone without a meal or starved for a job. It's not like anyone could offer me anything really fantastic, usually just mining opportunities. There were perks to the job though; for example, I found a tiny emerald once. At first I considered selling it, but then I thought, why? I've never really owned anything exravagant in my life, I could at least have one thing worth keeping around. I ended up putting the gem inside a neclace I had made myself. It was a running wolf, I used the green jewel for the eye.

"Nervous?"

I studied Windle's face, "About what?"

He rose his shoulders and looked at me like something was obvious, "About the Reapings."

My mouth dropped, I slapped my face and fell onto my back. Beneath the cover of my hands I mumbled, "Oh man. I forgot that was today."

The old man laughed and got up, "Yeah, well anyone in their right mind would want to forget about it." He walked for the door, "You probably ought to get ready. They start in half an hour."

I scoffed and sat up again, "Get ready? It's not like I have much to get ready with."

Windle turned to observe me, "That's not what I mean, son."

One of my brows rose in confusion, he tilted his head to the side, "Have you thought about it? About the Games? What if you get picked?"

"This is District Two. We have more winners than any other district, and we're by far the most bloodthirsty. Someone would just volunteer for me." I simply explained.

He pointed a bony finger at me, "Ah, but what if no one did? What if this happened to be the year no on feels like volunteering?"

I got out of my bed and stretched, "Look, I'm not trying to be rude, but it's highly unlikely that's possible." Rolling my shoulders and popping my back I went over to where my backpack lay. Sad, huh? All my belongings can fit in a bag.

"Unlikely, yes, but not impossible."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, "And anyways, what if I was chosen? I can take care of myself." I looked back at Windle, and forced a smile, "Don't worry about me."

Putting up one of his hands he mumbled something like, 'Yeah, yeah. Take a shower', and left. I listened for his retreating steps, then hauled my backpack up and lugged myself and my stuff towards the nearest bathroom. Which, by the way, wasn't hard to find considering his house was about the size of an igloo. I felt like a giant in his tiny home; I mean, number one: I'm barely under six foot, and number two: I work in the mines so I'm not completely miniscule. Another good thing about manual labor, it helps you earn that six pack.

After taking a quick shower, and scrubbing the scent of dirt off my skin, I searched my stuff for something decent to wear. Surprisingly I had money for nice clothes, they weren't anything special, but since I didn't have a place to pay for, or bills, I was able to buy some new shirts and pants every once in a while. Not that I completely mooched off of people, I payed rent, most people went ahead and told me to keep the money though. It made me feel like a jack ass when they did that. Usually I just tossed some money in a place they could easily find it, like a mailbox or a shoe.

I ended up wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of white pants. Sitting on the edge of the pale yellowish tub, I put on the cleanest pair of socks I owned, and laced up my green shoes. The light in the ceiling began to flicker; I watched for a few seconds as it danced and gradually faded to nothing. Wrapped in complete darkness I stood and fumbled my way around the toilet and sink to the door.

Throwing it open I let the light from the hallway flood the bathroom. In semi-darkness I tried to untangle the fatal case of bedhead I had. My hair was long, unlike most guys in the district, and I liked it that way. People said it gave me an animalistic sort of look, like my strange ability to hear well, I was often compared to a wolf. In fact, that's exactly what people called me, Wolf.

That would have to do. Smoothing my hair out of my face I retucked everything into my backpack. On the way out of Windle's house, I made sure to take note of all the surrounding sights and sounds. If someone asked me where I lived, I'd probably say with Windle. He was the nicest guy I'd ever met, and sort of resembled a father figure.

His quaint little apartment made me think of my old home. It was actually a pretty good size for being in the poorer part of the district. Anyone that needed a place to stay for the night, or something to eat came to my family. It had always been that way, that's why everybody was so nice to me. At least, I think that's why. I'm sure they also just pity me for my loss.

Loss. Every time I thought of that car wreck it felt like my body would just fall to peices right where I stood. So naturally I didn't speak of it; neither did anyone else. My father, mother and sister had all been in the car. Like usual, I was working in the mines for a little extra food money. I remember my dad telling me where they were going before I left, and I was too tired to really care. I didn't even get to say goodbye.

God, that memory of when I found out was just stuck. I had been working so hard and dilegently I was being given the opportunity of a promotion. That day, I had struck the richest vein of gold the entire district had ever seen. They were going to take me out of manual labor and put me behind some higher paying supervising job. I didn't think I would ever frown again, my family was finally going to be in a comfortable financial situation. Then the peacekeeper came up to me.

The first thing that came to my mind was I was in big trouble for something. When he told me it had just been reported that my family had been in an accident, I raced out of the mine towards the hospital they were supposed to be going to. Know what happened? I got stuck behind a pile up of cars on a two lane road. I just took my motorcycle off onto the grass and kept going... and that's when I passed them.

They were all in these black body bags.

That's my whole life story. Nothing special, just triumph that concluded with tragedy.

"Wolf?"

I jerked my head up, there was Windle. How long had I been standing like this? "Uh, yeah?"

"You ready now?"

Nodding urgently we walked out of his house together. I waited as he locked the door, "So, now that you've had some time to think about it, how do you feel about the Reapings today?"

He turned to look at me, and I just walked on down the steps. "Well, like I said before. If I get reaped, I can handle it."

Windle jogged to catch up with me and we walked slowly towards the town square. He had his old hands shoved deep in his pockets and his back arched. I ached for something to talk about, something to keep my mind of my family.

"So," I asked, "have you seen Violet?"

"Yep, he was getting ready when I'd gone over to his parents shop to buy the coffee from them."

Typical, my best friend wasn't late for anything- even the most dreadful day of the year. "Oh yeah? How was he?"

We both swivled our heads around when we heard loud steps coming up behind us, "How's who?"

It was Violet himself. Windle waved and smiled brightly, "Hey, son. We were just talking about you."

"I bet." He walked up alongside me, "You ready?"

Laughing I shook my head, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

He shrugged, "Just something to say I guess." Suddenly he stiffened like he remembered something, "Hey, did you guys watch the district one reapings? That Lorraine chick was kinda hot. If all the girls are like that then the Games can't be too bad, right?"

"Negative." I replied, "They're immoral and always will be."

He bobbed his head some, "Yeah, I suppose. I'll tell what's immoral- the dude that volunteered!"

I hadn't watched the District One reapings, so this intrigued me, "What was wrong with him?"

Violet sressed each individual word, "_He- was- huge_." He puffed himself up and flexed his biceps.

Laughing I watched as Windle's forehead crinkled, "So? Male career volunteers are always a pretty good size."

"No, I'm talking, like drug huge."

I shook my head in disgust, "Man, why would anyone do that?"

My friend just shrugged, "I don't know. He was something else though."

"What about the girl?"

"What about her? I told you- she was hot."

Shaking my head at him again, I laughed, "That's not what I mean. What was she like? Evil, rude, funny?"

"Well," Violet thought for a moment, "I guess you could call her... confident."

"Confident?" Windle repeated.

"Yeah. Oh! She had scars all over her!"

I stumbled over a small stone that happened to be in my path and bent to rub at my now throbbing toe, "Scars? Did her parents beat her or something?"

"Nah, I don't think so. They were all different sizes and straight like they wer done with a weapon of some kind, and some were, like, faded while others were fresher looking."

Windle nodded, "Training."

Violet stuck his thumbs in his pants belt loops, "Well, what ever they were from, they worked for her."

Windle and I just laughed at that, and all three of us went on talking until we reached the square. There was already a huge crowd gathered, and it seemed to be pulsing with restlessness.

Windle patted both of us on the back, "Good luck boys." We waved at him as his figure retreated and was lost in a sea of people.

We pushed and shoved on our way over to the 17's section. Luckily we both happened to be the same age, so we could wait together. For some odd reason, neither of us said much. My stomach started to turn a little and Violet looked nausiated. The noise was almost as unbearable as the heat. I could barely stand all the yelling and horrible smells.

To my relief, the mayor finally walked on stage to cue the start of this years reapings. He said something about rebellions, and the district's past victors. I just rocked on my heels and whistled under my breath, secretly stressing over the future.

Then the real show started. A drunken escort stumbled and tripped his way to the podieum and took off his dark sunglasses. Yep, definetly drunk.

After making a huge fool of himself and getting a verbal 'spanking' from an angered peacekeeper he drew a name out of the girls galss ball. A chick from the 15's section practically skipped up the stage. That's when it hit me; she was the mayor's daughter. How ironic.

Next to me Violet elbowed my side, he wiggled his brows in approval. I shook my head and missed most of what she said. I did hear the audience laugh though, so she must of made some joke worthwhile.

Then the moment of truth came. Violet and I stood stock still. The bald escort reached into the bowl and pulled out a male tributes name. I felt sorry for the poor sucker who'd end up getting reaped, unless of course he wanted to go.

He squinted at the print and read off the scariest thing I've ever heard in my life, "This year's male tribute is Violet Brim."

Next to me Violet let out a tiny whimper, looking at me with utter fear in his eyes he slowly advanced towards the stage. I went to reach out and stop him but he just shook his head, his mouth hanging open slightly. Balling my fists up at my sides I stared in anguish as he took his place on the opposite side of the escort from where the girl stood. My reaction was immidiate, my hand thrust into the air, "I volunteer!"

"Okay then, come on up!" The escort waved me up to the stage and with my mind in a bit of a fog I jogged over to Violet. He looked like he was getting ready to scream, but even if he was going to he wasn't given the chance. A peacekeeper marched onto the stage and dragged him off of it.

I watched as my only friend in the world was thrust back into the 17's crowd.

"What your name, son?"

The escort put the microphone up to my lips and I replied, "Zane Wolf."

People aplauded my brave act and smiled fondly. "Did you know Violet?"

I nodded numbly, "He's my friend." Not bothering to smile for cameras or look at the escort I searched for Windle. There were too many people, there was no way I'd find him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present your District Two tributes for the 78th annual Hunger Games!"

Everyone whooped and hollered encouragingly, from the corner of my eye I saw my district partener wave and smile. The escort took a step back so we could shake hands.

A little shakily I stuck my hand out to take hers, and then I saw it. It was tiny and lasted a milisecond, but I saw the danger flash in her eyes. But, like I said, it was there, and then gone. Taking my hand she shook it with an unblelievable amount of strength. I noted how tall she was, only a few inches shorter than myself.

"Nice to meet you, Zane." She smiled brightly and I felt a hint of dread in me. Still though, I returned her smile.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you too."

She arched a perfectly plucked golden brow, "Allies?"

My jaw almost dropped. Really? She's trying to team up with me and make plans and we just got reaped like literally ten seconds ago?

Eventually I found my voice, taking my hand away from hers I turned to all of District two and put on my most confident face. "I guess. Can we talk about this some other time?"

She nodded and waved along with me. _Crap_. My life sucks.

**Authors note: Sorry it took a couple days to write, I haven't been able to work on it as often as I like. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I've already started District three so there's some good news! By the way, if you could PM the answer to this question or post it in a review that'd be great! Question: How do you want your tribute to die? Obviously one person wont have to anser this, but it's appreciated never the less. Give me as many details as you can, heres some stuff to think about: with what kind of weapon, were they protecting someone, was it an accident, did they get sick, were they ganged up on, killed from far away or up close? If you don't answer then I'll decide, just don't complain if you don't like it. I'll probably repost this question in the next chapter as well, just as a reminder. Thanks so much guys! And thanks for the good reviews! **


	8. District three Reapings: Claire & Newt

_Claire De Leon:_

I picked at the food infront of me, pushing it around my plate and chopping it up to make it look like I had consumed something. However, I think my parents were aware that I hadn't eaten a single morsel. Looking up I locked eyes with my mother, sitting at the end of our shiny mahogany table. She forcesa small smile, and I returned the brightest grin I could muster.

She breathed deeply and shakily returned her gaze to her plate. Without glancing up she asked me if I was ready for the reapings, and how I felt.

"Great." I nodded to her reassuringly, "I'm ready."

My mom moved her head up and down, as if she was agreeing with her food rather than me.

Dad cleared his throat and resituated himself in his chair, "Well, you look pretty."

"Thank you." I began to pick at my food again. Man, I really wanted to eat, everything looked so colorful and delicious. But, the thought of swallowing any food was revolting, I was sick to my stomach. However, I couldn't let my parents see that. They were worried enough as it is.

"Hey, you need to eat. Trust me, if you _do_ throw up, it will feel a lot less worse if you have food in your belly. Otherwise, you'll probably just dry heave." I narrowed my eyes at my brother, and one of the current mentors of district three.

"Thanks, but I don't plan on throwing up." I replied dryly.

Beaming at me with confidence he returns his attention to his lunch, leaving me to scowl at myself. My brother loves me- but he thinks I'm weak. He thinks all girls are weak, and delicate. I can't blame him I guess, I must look bad not eating or talking.

With detimination I shovel some green peas into my mouth. I manage to down it with a drink of water. Trying for the bread next, I gently tear peices off and take tiny bites. My family converses quietly, each one of us trying to think of something to talk about besides the reapings, or the weather. The ancient antique clock in our living room strikes eleven, and my parents collect the dishes and retire to the kitchen to wash them together. No doubt they will talk about me.

As I watch their retreating forms I feel a pair of eyes on me. I turn to look at Rane, and cock a brow, "What?"

He shrugs, "Nothing."

"No," I say slowly, "It's something. What's on your mind?"

"Are you going to volunteer?" He asked this so quickly I almost didn't catch it. When I finally got it through my head my jaw dropped.

"Of course not! Are you crazy?"

He slouched back in his chair, "Oh, thank God."

My attitude changed with that comment, "What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes widened, "Really?" Huffing he pushed his chair back and went to walk away, "I'll let you think about it."

I don't understand him sometimes. Was he trying to bait me into volunteering? Or was he honestly worried for me?

No matter, much to my dismay lunch is over and it's time for me to go up to my room to get ready. My routine is simple- take a shower, put on deodorant, wash my face, and brush my teeth. No make-up. Who in their right mind would put on make-up for an event like the reapings? If they happened to get chosen, or worse, volunteered, why would they want to look like a Barbie? Were they trying to ask for a spanking? There's nothing wrong with looking like a girl, but some just took it too far.

Besides, my outfit conveyed my intentions. Serious and mature. Turning from side to side, I examine my attire. My black pencil skirt is slightly wrinkled, so I run some water over my hand and try to smooth it out. I rearange my silky purple shirt, and run a comb through my sraight, glittering black hair. There, I'm done.

For a moment I sit by a window in my bedroom and observe the outside world. I try to find some shread of peace in the nothingness beyond my house. Instead I ended up thinking about my family.

When my brother came home as victor of the Hunger Games, the entire district rejoiced. Want to know the worst of it? Even the family of the female tribute that year had sent my parents a congradulatory notice. They said it disgraced them; that the loss of their daughter was a gift since she turned out to be such a loser. My mom, fearing it would bring strong emotions out of my brother, tried to burn the letter before he could see it. Naturally he caught her before she acheived her goal.

I think it really did hurt him. We had always been a close family, my brother and I were comic sibilings. Everything was turned into a joke around us, there wasn't a day that went by where no one laughed at an act of one of the Leon children. However, when he came back from the games he was forever changed. He didn't speak for weeks, and seemed lost in thought. Rane would stare, and it was like he could see for a million miles. Luckily, he recovered, but not fully. There was no joy in him anymore, he hid it well from our parents, but he couldn't hide it from me- he was gone, empty.

That might be why I was feeling so ill. What was worse? Winning the games or losing them? If I won, I'd be glorified. My name would ring throughout every household. There wouldn't be one person in all of Panem that didn't know who I was. Did I want that kind of attention? I wasn't sure about much of anything. But, I was sure of one thing, losing meant death. Simple as that. It's cruel that the Hunger Games could be defined by the word 'simple'.

A burst of light rushed through my window as a large fluffy white cloud began to drift out of the Sun's way. What would I do if I got reaped? Propping my elbows on my knees I held my chin in my hands as I contemplated the possibility. Would I kill people? Yes. There was no doubt about it. I wouldn't be the tribute that hides in the brush the whole time, waiting for everyone to kill each other and then try to take out the last one standing. I had more pride than that. More strength.

There was a warmth on my shoulder, and when I turned to see a hand lingering I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Sorry." My brother held his hands up in defense, "Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me, you surprised me." I stated blankly.

He laughed and sat crosslegged on the floor next to me, "Is there a difference?"

I nodded, "What's up?"

Rane scratched at his neck, where his tie was cutting into the skin. "Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"You do this every year. I don't know why you bother worrying, the chances of my getting reaped are pretty slim." I returned my attention to the window.

My brothers eyes were drilling holes into my skull, "How can you be so calm about this, Claire?" The question wasn't harsh and demanding, but quiet and small.

"I'm not calm about it, not really." I chuckled, "I actually want to hurl some."

He stared at me for a second, "Well, if you do get reaped, you'll be a hell of a person to watch out for in the games."

Looking at him I smiled, "What makes you say that?"

"You can make anyone believe anything." Laughing he continued, "Down in the dining room I thought you looked scared shitless. Now you're acting like it's just another day."

Leaning forward I put on a sly face, "Want to know a little secret?" Playing along he leaned in as well, "I _was_ scared shitless, and I still am." I whispered.

Rane was the only person in the world that I would tell my feelings to. I considered it weak to show emotions and especially cowardly to complain about them. And crying, don't even get me started on crying. Tears don't change anything. They can't bring back a loved one, or keep you from getting reaped. They don't do anything but make your nose run.

He layed down on the fluffly cream carpet, and put his arm over his eyes. His voice was muffled slightly when he spoke, "Yeah... I was scared too." I frowned as he went on, "Do want to know what kept me going?"

"Sure." I said with caution.

"You. Mom and Dad too, obviously, but mostly just you. You've always been my best friend."

I laughed and punched his arm, "Why are you talking like that? I'm not going anywhere. We'll always be best friends. I promise, when the reapings are over, we'll go catch a chick flick and then get our nails done. It'll be like todays reapings never happened."

He still had his face covered, but I didn't need to see his eyes to know that his chuckle didn't sound very convincing. The door to my room opened and I saw my mom standing there in a white skirt, floppy hat, and a printed blouse.

"You two ready to go?"

I nodded and hopped up, before reaching for my shoes I licked my finger and stuck it in Rane's ear, "Wet Willy!" I shouted.

He smacked my hand away and scuttled to his feet, wiping at his ear like I'd stuck an insect in it, "Disgusting!" He wailed, "I'm not even going to begin telling you how gross that was!"

I laughed and my mom shook her head fondly, "Come on you guys, hurry up."

Still snickering at the previous incident we made our way outside to the garage. My dad backed our nicest car out of the garage and motioned for us to pile in. The ride to the square was short, since we lived in the upper part of the district to begin with. I never could convince my parents that we should just walk.

By the time we got there, almost all the parking spaces were taken. Dad and mom dropped us off at the front of the square and left to hunt down a place to leave their 'baby'.

I hugged Rane with all the ferocity in the world and then released him to plow into a sea of kids. I found my best friends Alec and Celeste standing together and chating. I ran up to them and put an arm around each, "Hey, guys."

"Hey." Alec hugged me tightly and I then tuned to embrace Celeste.

"Did you watch the reapings?" Alec asked with conviction.

I nodded, but couldn't get a word in with Celeste standing there, "Oh, I know. Those chicks looked like real bi-" Alec placed a hand over her mouth to stop the bad word that was sure to come. He raised a brow at her plaintively, rolling her eyes she yanked his hand off her face to continue, "Those chicks looked like real _meanies."_

Laughing at the formality, I still agreed with her. She went on, "The guy from district one could be considered cute, but, I'm not into that kind of thing if you know what I mean. I mean, what kind of guy would ruin his body that way? But holly Hell, that Zane dude was pretty cute, I don't usually dig the long hair thing, but he made it work, know what I mean? That Starr chick had a awsome dress though, I'd like to have something like that in my closet."

This time I was the one to place a hand over her mouth, "Okay. We get it."

She glared at me and Alec nodded in approval, "So what did you think of them? Lorraine looked like a peice of work."

I shrugged, "Okay, I guess. Same old, same old. The steriods were a new thing though. Do you think the girly act Starr was doing was some kind of, I don't know, play? Like she was trying to undersell herself?"

Alec was going to say something when the mayor went to walk up the stage steps, "Oops. Got to go!"

We waved bye at him as he wove his way over to the guy's 16s section. As usual, the mayor talked about the normal crap, the recent rebellion, and the past victors, one of them being my brother. Many turned to look at me when Rane's name came up. I got a lot of proud smiles, but I just ignored them. I had no intrest in people who only wanted to kiss up to me and my sibiling.

Then the escort came, she was green and had cat whiskers. I'm not kidding, they were taught, thick, black whiskers. What- the- talking mushrooms? Celeste looked at me and stuck a finger down her throat like she was gagging herself. In turn I pretended to wrap a rope around my neck and hang myself. We giggled and that's when I felt it, a tap on my shoulder. I looked back to see who was bothering me. A red head girl with freckles on her face pointed towards the stage. I thought at first she was telling me to be quiet and I was getting ready to give her a peice of my mind when she said, "The escort called your name."

Spinning around to see if this monstrosity was true, I saw that all eyes were now on me. Instantly my face heated, but not from embarassment- from fear. Was it true? Straightening my back I took a step forward, and then another and another. It was like the world had stopped moving. I was walking on air, waiting for someone to pull me back to earth. I was waiting for someone to yell 'Hey, what are you doing? She didn't say your name!' or 'I volunteer!'. Freedom never came though, I was trapped. Well, fine, if that's the way it was going to be then I would at least try to look dignified. Lifting my chin I quickened my pace.

All to soon I found myself standing next to the cat lady. She was bouncing excitedly, "Congratulations, darling! Do you have anything to say?"

She held the mic to my lips, like she was expecting somthing great out of me, leaning forward I studied the audience. They hate me, I could tell. I tried to muster something encouraging and brave. Instead my mouth worked faster than my brain, "Not right now." Stupid! like that would get the sponsor's attention!

Kitty held it there like I was joking, then pulled back slowly as if I was going to change my mind. "Now for the boys!"

I watched her hand as her sharpened nails plumeted into a glass bowl and dug for some poor guys name. Even though I was shocked to my core, I felt my body betray my true feelings. It stiffened, and straightened. I clasped my hands together behing my back and plastered a courageous, brutal look on my face. No crying, I thought to myself, It'll only make your nose run.

_Newton 'Newt' Gordon:_

The screen flickered as it flashed images of the first tributes for the Games. Just thinking about that big guy made my skin crawl. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to get caught in his grip. He looked like he could breath poisonous gases or shoot lasers beams out of his eys. And the female- Lorraine. What was with all the cuts? She was pretty, but I couldn't fathom a reason as to why anyone would want to train that hard. It seemed like she might be a little over zealous about the Games. Typical district one tributes. Over confident, yet sadly they had the rights to be.

District two. That was interesting to watch. The girl appeared to be content with getting chosen, the guy- not so much. But, then again he didn't get reaped, he volunteered. You'd have to watch out for him. He's the kind of tribute that makes everyone think he's just a brave, righteous soul for taking the place of a beloved friend. I'd bet money that he would be among the first to kill. I've seen every kind of tribute: scared, confident, malicious, strong, emotional. This year had been no different than the rest. Clicking off the television I took a book off of one of my many shelves and started to read.

I sat on my bed, trying to find something other than the Reapings to think about. I hated them. I despised not knowing what the future held, I liked having the answers. It would be so much easier if I there was a mathmatical way to figure out whether or not I'd be reaped. My father and I had searched for one in good humor, but found none.

Looking down at the book in my lap I slammed it shut and tossed it to the floor. Burrying my head in the pillows I closed my eyes. Would I get in trouble if I pretended to be ill and just didn't show up for the reapings? I could say I had cancer, or some contagious disease. Then I'd have to prove it... no, that was highly illogical. Stupid Hunger Games. Stupid president. Stupid Panem.

In my history class we mostly studied the rebellions, and talked of the former one attempted by the wonderful Katniss Everdeen. I wished she had figured something out, why couldn't she have succeeded? Was all of Panem really doomed to fight in the Games for eternity? Unlikely. There would be more rebellions, and the president would fall off his mighty throne. The sad part? They would all fail, horribly. Life was a huge failure, everything would end in utter chaos.

North 'America' was a thing of the past. There would never be another land of the free and home of the brave. More like land of the lost and home of the mentally unstable. That had a ring to it.

I wish I had someone to talk to, someone to relate to. Alas, I had no one. Sure, my mom was down the hall, but that's not what I want. I want a friend- I want to be happy. My parents believed I was, but in truth I had never felt more alone than I have for the past few years- no doubt thanks to my teenage hormones. I tried desperately to make relationships with people, but all attepts were futile. I was an awkward person, destined to find solace in no one but myself. Listen to me, I sound kind of depressed don't I?

There was a knock at my door, I didn't say anything because I knew my mother would come in even if I denied her entry.

"Babe?" I couldn't see her, but I pictured her hands knotted together, anxiety etched into her face. "Are you alright?"

Pushing myself up on my elbows I grinned at her, "Yep! Just trying to take a nap." I was always hiding my real feelings from my parents.

Her voice was shaking slightly, "Well, you need to get ready for the... reapings."

I flinched at the word, "Okay. I'll uh, I'll put something nice on."

"Dad will be home soon. He had to pick up an extra shift."

"Why?" My dad worked for the Capitol, which I imagine was part of the reason why no one liked me.

Shrugging her shoulders, she crossed her arms, "I don't know. He doesn't tell me much about his work." She began rubbing at the goosebumps raising along the tops of her arms, "It's so cold in here. You need to turn up the thermostat before you get yourself sick."

"It's not that cold, and even if it was it wouldn't make me sick."

She sat down next to me and scooted under the blankets, pushing my brown hair out of my eyes she said, "You need a haircut."

Shaking my head, I retreated, "Nah, it's fine as long as I flip it out of the way."

Laughing she patted my hand, "Right." Her smile was loving, but sad. "How do you feel? You didn't eat much this morning."

"Alright. I just didn't feel like eating." I twiddled my thumbs together as she stared at me with concern.

"Nervous?" She finally asked.

I nodded glumly, "Kind of, but it's not that bad."

"Well, I don't even know why we bother leaving the house today. Kids usually volunteer every year anyway."

"I Know. I wish they would just ask anyone if they wanted to volunteer first, that way everything could be over quicker."

She laid her head back on a pillow, "It's just the Capitol's way of trying to scare people."

Eyeing her carfully, I asked, "Has dad said anything to you? Maybe about Katniss Everdeen?"

Her face flooded with some type of strong emotion, regret? "No."

"Oh. I was just curious. Sorry I asked."

"It's okay, you don't have to be sorry. It's just- I know what you're trying to get at, honey, and you need to be careful about what you say. Even to me. The less we talk about that stuff the better off we are, okay?" She squeezed my fingers and from the living room we heard our front door open. There was a sound of keys on a table, and then loud steps against the wooden floor.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

"In here!" My mom and I both yelled at the same time.

His tall form appeared in my doorway, "Oh. Hey you guys." He gave my mom a kiss on the cheek then came over to my side of the bed. When he sat the bed jolted with his weight, "How are you?"

"Awesome." I smiled like the reapings were already through with and it was just another day.

He laughed, "Really? Well, I'm glad you're feeling so good, because when this afternoon is over, we've got something exciting to work on. "

I sat upright with intrest, "What is it?"

"You'll see."

Frowning at him, I watched as my mom rolled off the bed and went towards the door, dad followed in her footsteps. "We'll see you in a little bit. Make sure you take a shower."

"I will." I wanted to ask why she thought I wouldn't take one in the first place, but decided against it.

They left and once more I was alone. My parents and I were a tight family, we didn't have anyone else really. Mom didn't work, but I suppose dealing with me was enough to earn her a paycheck. However, my dad was a genius. Literally, he had an incredibly high IQ, and passed it on to me. I was able to read a book and pretty much memorize everything in it. He had convinced me to read the dictionary and try to lock each definition in my brain. Of course that was inexplicably boring, so I haven't gotten very far.

Huffing I got out of bed and dragged myself over to my dresser, searching through the garments I found a black pair of pants to go with a black short sleeved shirt. All my clothes looked a little unusual because it was hard to find stuff that fit my body type. I was 5"6 and really skinny; nothing like my dad who seemed kind of enormous. I did get the blue eyes from him though, so I guess that's something. I would have setteled for a muddy brown though if it meant I could have his height and build.

Quickly I hopped into my shower and bathed with some type of odd smelling soap, singing to the showerhead as I did so. Don't judge me. The only time I'm ever spontaneous is when I'm alone or with my family. Another reason why I don't have any friends. Although, I'm sure if I sang to people that still wouldn't help my delima. Scrubbing at my hair I rinsed it until all the foaming suds were gone. Getting out I dried off and put my chosen outfit on.

I brushed my teeth and shaved my face, then went to find a pair of clean socks. Lacing up the new shoes my parents had recently provided for me, I examined my appearance in a large mirror I had in my bedroom. I couldn't see very well so I opened up one of the drapes currently keeping the sunlight out of my dimly lit room. It wasn't bad, in fact it gave me a misterious, bad boy sort of look- if I did say so myself.

Taking my glasses off my bedside table, I put them on and and went out of my room. Looking at it one last time before I left.

I found my parents sitting at the dining room table, chattering about somthing. "Hey."

They looked up and each smiled, mom asked if I was ready.

"As I'll ever be."

Slowly we walked out of our house, towards the square. Like I said before, we were a tight knit family, so we liked doing things like this together. Another thing was my dad liked using the car as little as possible, he didn't like the idea of pollution or an inactive lifestyle. He insisted on walking if the distant and temperature weren't going to make you sweat.

"Man, I hate this."

That comment surprised me since it came from my dad, "Sorry." I replied, "I don't like it either."

Mom grasped dad's hand, "I wish we could stand with you."

Laughing I shoved my hands in my pockets, "I'll be fine. It'll be over before you know it."

Dad nodded, and we continued our journey in an awkward silence. All to soon we had reached the gathering. There was so much yelling and hustling, everyone seemed to be running around crazy getting things ready. The whole district was here.

I hugged my dad and mom tightly, when I let go I saw tears in my mothers eyes. Wiping them away I embraced her once more, "Mom. I'll be fine." Gripping her shoulders I looked back at her once more, "It's okay."

She bobbed her head up and down, "I know! I shouldn't be crying, because I know nothing bad will happen. Thank goodness we only have to do this one more time after this reaping."

That was a relief to me as well. I had dreaded the games since I had turned 12, now I only had two years left, including this year. It seems like there's no way I'd get picked now, since I had been spared all these years, but in my mind I knew there was still a chance. Slim, but still there.

"I'll see you guys in a little while." I waved as I departed from them and wove my way through the crowd. Bumping into a girl with shiny black hair and cat like eyes, I practically tripped over her. She turned to look at me and my cheeks instantly heated, rubbing the back of my neck I apologized and hurried along my way before she could say anything. Did I forget to tell you? I wasn't good around girls either, especially pretty ones like that.

Searching for the boy's 17s section I finally located it and picked a spot to stand in. I ended up behind some really big dude with spikey hair, naturally I couldn't see anything.

The mayor waltzed onto the stage and made his manditory speech, and was then followed by the escort. I wanted to see her, since they were usually pretty neat looking, but I couldn't jump high enough to see over the dude infront of me. He stared at me evily and I managed to muster a small, unsure smile.

The escort called a girls name first, I think it was Claire or something like that and then proceeded to ask her a question or two. I didn't hear much, I'd lost intrest after a while. She then called a boys name, the next words stopped my heart.

"Newton Gordon."

I froze. Oh- my- God. My feet wouldn't move, my mind wouldn't work. I couldn't think. Some guy behind me pushed me forward, "Newt, you're up man." I heard laughter, and tried the swallow the bile building up in my throat. The crowd parted as I tripped my way up to the stage.

I found myself standing next to a woman that resembled a cat. Looking around her I saw the female tribute, my eyes widened in surprise when I realized it was the balck haired girl that I had almost knocked over earlier. She met my gaze and I quickly averted my eyes, the escort beamed with delight. Why? This was terrible, it was horribly wrong. I shouldn't be up here, I'd never done anything in my entire life to deserve this punishment. Of all the bullies and blood thirsty kids standing out there, why me?

My breathing had quickened and my heart was now racing. I thought it would burst out of my chest! Great! I was going to hyperventilate!

The escort eyed me cautiously, then threw up her hands, "District three, I present to you, your tributes for this years Hunger Games!"

The crowd roared in delight, and I almost vomited. She took a step back so I could shake hands with Claire.

She stuck hers out expectantly, and out of all the stress I'd just endured, I still blushed when our hands clasped. Mine was shaking in her own strong grip, and it surprised me when she tightened her fingers around my own. She whispered through clenched teeth, 'Stop it'. Her eyes glinted with some kind of warning, but I don't think it was a 'I'm going to kill you warning', more like a 'Don't do that', hint. Letting go she turned to the crowd and waved with a smile on her face. Looking at me the girl jerked her head towards the audience, remembering what little dignity I had left, I waved my hand slowly. It was then that I realized she was trying to tell me to act more like a tribute and less like a boy who thought he'd just got the cooties.

It was at this time I recalled an old saying my dad had. _Brains over Brawn_. I had the brains, the intelect, that extra edge no one else possessed. I could win. If I tried, I could return home alive. Before we were carted off the stage I searched for my parents. They were no where to be found. No matter, I'd see them before I left on the train ride.

_I love you guys,_ I thought to myself. _Don't worry, I'll be back._

**Authors note: Whoo! *Wipes sweat off brow*. Sorry that took a couple days, I've been having to work so it took me longer to get it done than what I would have liked. Next, up district four! Um, by the way I'm going to do a poll on something that I'll set up tomorrow, and I'd like everyone to vote on it because it involves how your tributes are going to die. It will be worth points, but I don't know how much yet. Thanks for reading, and all the positive reviews! These characters have been awesome to work with, and the great thing is that they're all different, not any one is like another! Peace out for now my homies! BTW, sorry for any errors, I wanted to get it published as quickly as I could so can move on.**


	9. District four Reapings: Hazel & Ray

_Hazel Cresta:_

"Hazel? Hazel? Where are you?"

I grimaced down at the voice and yelled back, "Who wants to know?"

"You're best and only friend."

Hanging upside down from the branch I had been perched upon, I revealed myself. Gia yelped and covered her mouth, and looked around like she might get caught doing something bad.

"Get down from there!" She lowered her voice dramatically, "You could fall and break your neck."

Rolling my eyes I lifted myself up and went back to my previous, and according to Gia, safer sitting position on the thick limb. I looked down through the tangled mess of leaves and twigs beneath me and saw her standing there expectantly. Putting her hands on her hips, she moved closer under the tree so she could see me as well.

"Are you coming down or not?"

Shrugging I brought my knees up to my chin, "I've decided to skip the reapings." I said sarcastically.

Gia snorted and leaned against the trunk, "Yeah right. You can't go anyways, monkeys aren't allowed, only kids."

Laughing I invited her to come on up, instead of taking my offer she simply shook her head, "I don't think so, my parents spent to much money on this dress. And you are going to ruin your's." She began pawing at the old Oak, "Please come down! I've been stuck with my parents in that house for hours."

Huffing I eased my way down through the branches. I'd climbed this tree so many times for so long I knew each limb like it was a step in my house. I could navigate my way through them quicker than most people could remember their own age.

Dangling from the last and closest branch to the ground I let go and landed as gracefully as a cat. Coming out of my crouching positon I dusted off my aqua dress and smoothed back my unruly dark brown hair. Gia cocked her knee and crossed her arms, "Look at you," She stated almost sadly, "You are dirty."

"Shame on me."

"No really you've got leaves and twigs in your hair." She helped me pick the unwated contents off the top of my head and combed my hair back into a decent bun.

I guess I had dirt on my forehead too, because she was scrubbing at it with her thumb trying to rub ten million layers of skin off. Gia had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Literally. I don't have a single cherished memory that she's not involved in. We are two peas in a pod, as it were. I didn't have one secret she didn't know about. Another thing that banded us together was the fact that we didn't paticipate, or at least we didn't like participating, in most of the industries activities.

Neither of us had been the most popular, richest, or prettiest girls in the school, and unlike other careers we didn't favor the Hunger Games. I was a sometimes over- sensitive, emotional person who at the same time was stubborn and a little wild, and Gia was a quiet girl with many health problems. Both of us dreaded the reapings each year they came, but each time we were spared we toasted to the fact that we had one less year to worry about.

This year though... this year was different. For some odd reason the fishing industry had slowed down, and everyone was having to put in that extra helping hand to get by- including the children. That meant that the usual mountain of volunteers had dewindled to a mole hill. In turn, who ever got reaped was pretty much stuck with it. Most parents wouldn't allow their kids to volunteer if it meant they could rake in a little more revenue.

My family, although quite wealthy, was also suffering from the district's situation. We owned a large pearl diving company, and the once insanely expensive oyster items had become a lot cheaper. As if that wasn't bad enough, we weren't selling them at the desired rate.

Life. I guess that's how it treats everyone. One minute you're on top of the world, the next you're slidding off the edge. Some can hang on and climb back up, and others can't. Katniss Everdeen was a prime example. She had everything planned out, and just when it seemed she was going to stop the Games, she vanished. Most agreed it was her rebellion that cut back on production. Personally I didn't think so, I think a lot of it had to do with the capitol. I think they were invlolved and it was just another way to hurt us. Maybe because of the role Finnick played.

Squeezing my eyes shut I tried to erase his memory from my brain. Finnick had befriended me while Gia had been in the hospital due to health issues. I think he just liked that I was different. Anyway, he tried to teach me to swim, but even with him being the instructer I just couldn't grasp the concept. I didn't like that there could be miles of nothing but water beneath my feet or that creatures living in it could drag me down and swallow me whole. Finninck tried to persuade me that nothing bad could happen as long as kept swimming and developed some skill. He also confided in me that there was a better chance of me dying on a bike rather than being eaten by a sea monster. I still don't believe that. So yeah, that made me an outcast in district four, we were all about water- and I hated it.

There was a hand in my face, "Hello? Hazel?" Gia was staring at me like she had just said something that required an answer, "I asked what was wrong."

"Nothing much. Just thinking about Finnick." Putting my hands behind my back we slowly advanced up the lawn towards my house.

Her face softened with understanding, "Oh. Yeah, I miss him. He was a nice guy."

Nodding I tried to talk about different things, but Gia really wanted to gossip about the first few district reapings.

"They looked scary. Especially that big guy." She stared off into the distance- she was refering to the district One tributes. "Who do you like most? The Starr girl seemed nice."

Shrugging once more I pursed my lips, "I don't know. I don't really have a favorite."

"Well, then let me put it this way, who do you think will go down first?"

My immidiate thought was the Newton kid. He resembled a thin, tangled mess of yarn- no matter how hard you tried to untagle one part, another knotted up. Not to mention the look of horror on his face when he was reaped. I couldn't blame him though, if you aren't volunteering it's more than likely because the idea of being in the Games is the most terrible thing that could happen to you. I know thats pretty much what I thought of it.

"I don't know. I don't like to think about other people that way."

She rolled her eyes, "I forgot you had a heart of gold."

I managed to steer her off course of the reapings and talk about other things. Guys from our school, girls we didn't like. We continued this conversation all the way into the sitting room where both our parents were lounging.

My mom turned at the sound of our steps and smiled brightly when she saw I was still in one peice. Or maybe she was just happy that the dress was. "Hello, Mr and Mrs. Cresta."

Gia waved her small hand with delight. Everything about her seemed small to me, her being sick had taken the weight off of her, and I think it was also responsible for the fact that she was barely over five feet. She weighed around 92 pounds, and was still losing fat. It's not like she didn't eat, she was just that sick. In truth she could be popular if she wanted, like me she had the money to be, and unlike me the personality. But, I think people were hesitant to develope relationships with her because of her condition. They thought she'd just blow over or something.

"Hello darling. How did your surgery go?" I scowled at my mothers question, who asked someone that? Especially someone like Gia.

My friend just grinned though, and rocked back and forth on her heels, "Amazing. I feel so much better."

Mom tilted her head in pity, "Aw, well that's good. I'm happy for you."

Gia nodded and pretended as if something else in the room had caught her attention.

"You both look lovely."

I smiled at Gia's mom, she had always appeared to be a good person. Her father was very likable as well.

"Thanks."

"Sit down." My dad waved us over to the couch and we took places across from each other, Gia by her parents, and I by my own. Mom picked up my hand and gripped it tightly, I squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

"Are you girls ready for today?"

I nodded at my father's question, and he smiled fondly. "Good, I think we should have a bar- b- que when we get back."

Jac, Gia's dad, bobbed his head furiously, "That sounds good. I'll bring the alchol."

Our fathers laughed and got up to go into the kitchen to talk about who knows what. That left my our mothers together. They glanced at each other awkwardly, and exchanged a few words. Gia and I may have been best friends, but our moms just didn't seem to get along. I'm not saying they hated each other, just that they never really clicked.

"Well, why don't you girls go up to Hazels room and fix your make up. I think we're going to leave here in a little while."

Eager to leave we raced each other up my family's winding staricase, and into my abnormally large room. Quickly we retouched blush, mascara, and eye liner. Sitting on the floor we flipped through an old photo album. Gia stopped my hand suddenly when I went to turn a page in about the middle of the book,

"Who's that you're with?"

Examining the picture I realized who she was refering to, "Oh. That's my Aunt."

"I've never seen her." She scrunched up her nose like she trying to recall the woman.

"She's crazy. My parents don't let her see me."

She looked at me confused, "You never told me about that. You look just like her."

"Really?" I was surprised at myself, "Well, I never see her. I was one when they took this picture."

Pretty soon our moms had called our names and we were on our way to the reapings. Before leaving to find the 15s section, we kissed our parents on the cheeks and gave everbody a hug. Looping my arm through Gia's we journeyed through the crowd towards our area. The sun beat down on the crowd, but since the ocean was only a half a mile away, we had a cool breeze to combat the heat.

The wind was blowing Gia's hair around wildly, and I laughed at her angered expression. Putting both her hands on her head, we shouted at each other over the music and yelling.

"You nervous?" Gia had to ask twice before I understood.

"Yeah! You?"

She nodded with a grimace on her face and squinted up at the stage. Pointing I turned to see what she was looking at. The Mayor had just walked across the stage, round belly, tux and all. The audience hushed and listened intently as he spoke of past rebellions, and our districts last victors. Then, a woman with yellow hair, and I don't mean blonde, and a pure white suit strutted across the stage,

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Icarus, and I'm your escort this year."

Icarus? What kind of name was that for a woman? Then it hit me- she was a he. Ew.

He reached for the girls glass ball and yanked a name out, didn't even bother mixing them around. After pausing for dramatic effect, he read the name aloud. The whole crowd was stock still, it was as if our hearts were all beating as one. You could hear a pin drop.

"Will this person please come up to the stage... Gia Lindor."

Gia's hand froze around mine, instantly tears sprung to my eyes. Her own were wide with fear. She began to shake, and I pried her grip open. We looked at each other, and I did the one thing I could think of- I volunteered.

"I volun- volunteer." I stammered.

Icarus smiled, "Come on up."

Gia shook her head slowly and lurched for me. Someone that had been standing off the side grabbed her and held her back. I thanked them inside my head. The last thing we needed to do was attract the peacekeepers. Nodding with confidence I gave her a small wave, bad idea. She started to bawl. The blonde holding her wrapped her arms around her shoulders and hugged her closely. At least some one nice had been there to comfort my friend.

Crying a little I turned all the way around and headed up the steps. Once beside the escort he held out the mic, he could see the terror in my stance, but he acted as if it wasn't there, "What's your name?"

"My name is Hazel Cresta." It seemed like spitting out that single sentence would kill me.

Retrieving the microphone her cleared his throat, "Congratulations! You were able to get to it before anyone else! Now for the boys."

I didn't listen as he dove in for the final name, and I didn't care who it was. The whole time I never took my eyes off Gia. She was sick, weak. I had to volunteer for her- there was almost no choice. Gia was looking back up at me, and I was sure any moment she would vomit violently all over the place. Maybe the girl that was still consoling her would become her new best friend. If there was anything Gia needed, it was a friend. That was half of what kept her going though all the painful surgeries and medical appointments.

She kept cying, and even from the stage I could hear her. People turned around and told her to be quiet. I can't begin to describe how badly I want jump off this platform right now. To dive into the crowd and get trampled. I'd rather die that way than in the Hunger Games, at least then I'd know my fate.

In my mind I began to put together a farewell speech for my family. Oddly enough one thought crossed my mind, I was going to miss the bar-b-que.

_Ray Archer:_

I sat on the edge of the boat, feet dangling over the side, running my fingers through my short, dark brown hair. That was a bad habbit I had when something was on my mind- that and rubbing the back of my neck. I kept telling myself to quit doing those things. What was on my mind at present? The reapings, no doubt about it. Every one of them seemed so able.

Lorraine- she was a tough looking person altogether. I didn't even have that many scars and I fished for a living. I was surrounded by knives, hooks, saws, wires and pretty much anything else that could make you bleed. Antherton, just the name pissed me off. Uncalled for, why anyone would do drugs for the Games boggles my mind. Yet, it did give him the edge neccessary to win. I've seen tributes survive based on brute strength before. And that Starr girl, she looked like a force to be reckoned with. Like many careers she had a bit of that glint in her eye, the kind that said 'I'll do anything to win'. Her partener seemed like a decent guy though, Zane, in fact he kind of reminded me of... well me. Obviously we looked completely different, but you could tell he wasn't in it for the glory.

Then there were the district three tributes. I actually liked both of them, but I couldn't believe it when no on volunteered to take at least one of their places. I could see why maybe people wouldn't volunteer for the Newton fellow. No offense to him but he didn't look like the kind of person that was particularly 'good' with others. He reminded me of some teenage boy still trying to find his way home from school. Completely lost and scared, but just looking at him you could tell he had the brains for the games. However, the girl looked like a likeable person, I coudn't fathom a reason as to why she wasn't volunteered for. She looked hesitant and confident at the same time. I was usually pretty good at reading a person, but Claire was the only one that really confused me about her stance on the Games. One to watch out for I suppose, the quiet ones often were the first to stab someone in the back. Kind of attractive though, most of the time I tried not to concentrate on looks, but hey, I'm a guy, and it wasn't wrong of me to say she had them.

Covering my mouth with my hands I closed my eyes and breathed in the saltiness of the sea churning below me. Standing I felt the wind whip the fabric of my clothing around my body. Taking off my shirt, I bent to remove my boots next. Straightening up once more I pulled my entire body over the edge of the boat and dove in. The water clashed into me with a chilling ferocity, it felt like a thousand pins were poking at my flesh. Then the feeling began to dull, and wonder took its place. We were about a mile or so offshore, close to the reefs. I had to swim a ways though before I could get there, dad was parinoid about the boat getting wrecked on them.

However, it was always worth the excercise. The colors began to take the form of underwater plant and animal life, and the fish started to scatter. Rays from the sun glinted off their scales and bounced around in every direction. Water truly was the best element on earth. I never grew tired of visiting this place; it held so much life. I was practically untouchable beneath the surface of the ocean. After a while of exploring I decided to head back to the boat. Know what I ran into along the way? A killer whale. I almost choked on the water when I saw him, his massive body crashed through the water like a battering ram through a castle's gates. Most of the time they stayed out in deeper water, but I had heard rumors that people were dumping food into the ocean to atract them for entertainment reasons. This one must have been hanging around for a while, because when he saw me he didn't charge or act violent- just watched me. In fact he followed me all the way back to my father's boat and circled it a dozen times waiting for me to throw him a treat.

Drying in the sun I watched as he burst through the top of the water and flipped around. Shaking my head sadly I ran my fingers through my hair. I wish people wouldn't do feed those animals. I know they didn't intend to harm them, but in the end it would result in injuries- either to the whale or a human.

"What ya looking at son?"

I turned to see my father walking up to me, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "There's a killer whale asking for some food."

My dad shook his head, "Man. I hope he doesn't keep hanging around here. His friends will join in and all the fish'll be drove out. We'll have to move."

"I think he already has made this his residence."

His brows rose and he nodded, "Looks like it, don't it?"

Pretty soon the whale left, realizing he wasn't going to get any action here. Then me and my dad began putting stuff away, so we could head back to land. I steered the boat and watched as my father lounged on the deck. When we docked I helped him tie up the boat and then went up to the house.

We didn't have much in the way of money, the only reason we owned a house right now was because it used to belong to my grandparents and it got passed down to my dad. I waited as he unlocked the door and turned on the light. The only bulb in the ceiling fan dimly lit the room, and I navigated my way around the sparse furniture to the back part of our home.

"Yeah, hurry up and take that shower." My dad shouted after me, "You've only got about thirty minutes."

"Alright."

First I went to my room, and rummaged through the only dresser I had, for a decent outfit. We were basically dirt poor though, so I didn't have much. I picked out a pair of pants and a semi-stainless white t-shirt. Besides my boots, those were the nicest things I had. Everything else had rips in it, or was from my childhood and was too small for me to wear. I don't know why I kept that stuff, I guess for sentimental reasons. Since my mom was passed away, I didn't have a lot left of her. In a way it hurts that I never got to know her, but in another I'm glad I didn't because that just meant more pain. Shoving the drawer shut, I grabbed my outfit and headed for the bathroom.

I took my shower as fast as I could, and tried to unwind in the heat of the water. Scrubbing at my hair I used the last of the shampoo and forest scented soap. However, no matter what kind of soap I used, I would always smell the same. Dad says I was born smelling like salt water, and that I would grow old and die that way. I smiled at the thought, when I died that was the way I wanted to go. Smelling the ocean, and feeling it's breeze.

Getting out I put on the blue jeans and pulled the shirt on. I went over to the mirror and expected the damage. My hair had grown out an inch or so from it's usual cropped cut, but I didn't mind. It was also wind blown so it had it's own crazy style, most people thought I gelled it to perfection. Not true. I've never used a dab of gel on my hair in my entire life. Shaving my face my mind began to wander, like expected towards the reapings. What would happen this year? I was 17 so next year was my last. My heart slowed at the revelation. Just one more year, I could do it.

I was a pretty likeable guy I guess, I never treated anyone bad. In my whole life I don't remember calling anyone a name just to hurt them. However, I didn't have close friends. I had aquaintances. People who knew my name, people I'd pass on the street and wave to. It's not that I didn't like others, I just didn't favor developing relationships and then having them smashed to bits by life itself. My dad and I were enough for each other. We just kept to ourselves, not gossiping, not causing trouble. It had always been that way, I'd never been fond of talking to begin with.

Rinsing my chin I then brushed my teeth, and naturally I used the last bit of toothpaste we had. We were running out of everything. Hell, the district was running out of everything! Our income had plumeted along with the economy. Fishing was getting more difficult by the day, especially when the buyers were as tight as bark on a tree.

It drove dad crazy, I can't tell you how many nights I woke up to him passed out on his desk, reading glasses sliding off his nose and pencil still in hand. His snores would echo through the house, and they were so loud I couldn't believe the neighbors weren't complaining.

There was a knock at the door, with a tooth brush still in hand I opened it to see my dad standing there with a box. I let the brush droop a little as he handed me the package. I stared the the cover, there was a running thoroughbred horse for a logo. My mind new what it was, but my mouth asked the question anyway,

"Dad, what is this?" I jiggled the gift in my grip. Something jumbled around inside.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, and yes in case you're wondering that's where I got that habit from, "Open it and you'll see."

I shook my head and took the tooth brush out of my mouth, throwing it in the sink, "Dad. That's not what I mean. I know what they are. Why did you get them? We don't have the money-"

He held up a hand, "Just take it please. I spent to much on them for them not to be enjoyed."

Breathing deeply I felt the guilt pool in my stomach. I eased the lid off and glanced up at dad, it was all he could do to keep from beaming with anticipation. Looking back down a the shoes I picked one up. It was mostly black, with metalic looking white and blue stripes on them They were Queens Plates. Extremely expensive shoes; so expensive I cringed at the thought of how many _years _it took my dad to save up the money for them.

"Dad... I-" I wanted to chew him out. I hated it when he bought me something and I couldn't give him anything in return. Instead I looked up into his face, which was wrinkled and worn by a lifetime of working in the sun, and my heart lurched. "They're the best things I've ever seen, Dad."

He breathed a sigh of relief and we hugged, something we don't do often. Still in our embrace he patted the back of my head, "Son, you're the only thing I've ever done right. I just want you to know that."

We pulled away from each other and he had tears in his eyes, he blinked them away. Gingerly I put the shoes back in their box, and gripped his shoulders, "What's wrong dad?"

He tightened his mouth into a straight line, which was another thing I did, and shook his head violently, "I just don't like it son."

"Don't like what?" I asked with concern.

"That they have the ability to take my own son away from me and there is not a damn thing I can do about it." He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, "You're the only thing I've got in this whole world. There's no use in living if you haven't got anything to live for."

I shook him gently, "Dad. They're not gonna' take me, okay? Even I did get reaped, someone is bound to volunteer, it's a career district."

He looked at me sternly, "You don't understand. No one's going to volunteer this year. Families need their kids to stay behind to help catch up on money issues. And I'm going to tell you something, that Katniss Everdeen has stirred up a shit load of trouble for folks like us." He didn't usually cuss, so I fliched some when he did, "I know that in her heart all she meant was good, but the capitol is seething right now. You can garuntee yourself these games are going to be Hell."

I dropped my hands and looked past him to stare at nothing in particular, "Dad. I won't get reaped."

Staring at me his face saddened, "Promise?"

How could I promise? I had no way of knowing, "Yes." I told him what he wanted to hear anyway.

Nodding to himself he pointed at the shoes, "Put those suckers on, and lets get on our way."

Forcing a smile I watched him turn away, again rubbing the back of his neck, and disapear around the corner. I slipped the shoes on, and followed him out the door. By the way, they had to be worth what ever he paid, because they fit perfectly and it was like walking on a cloud.

We didn't say much on the way to the square, I think he was still reeling from our previous conversation. But, when we arrived we stayed together as long as we could. Standing and talking about fishing, thinking of different spots to try. Rhye, a friend of my dad's came up to us along with his daughter who had just turned 12. She had her hair in curly pigtails and they bobbed and danced about her face like springs. They began talking about the newest boat engine technology available and sonar tracking. Like usual I just stood there with my hands in pockets looking around. I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked down to see Rhye's girl smiling up at me.

"How tall are you?" She inquired.

At laughed a little at the question, "5"7 or 5"8, I haven't measured myself in a while."

She grinned, "My daddy is taller than you are."

I smiled at her pride, "Is that so?"

Nodding very seriously she continued, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

I looked around and ran my fingers over my hair, chuckling slightly, "No, um- no not at the moment."

She squinted up at me, "Could you wait for me to grow up before you get one?"

Rhye grabbed Teal's hand and gave it a squeeze, "What have I told you about asking every boy you see that question?"

She pouted, "To not to."

My dad laughed at her answer and we all talked a little more about different things. Then, it was time for the reapings. I stood amongst the other 17 year old boys and awaited the escort. When the mayor got through with his speech a.. uh.. actually I'm not really sure what it was walked across the stage. Like always he called a girls name first,

"Gia Lindor."

There was no activity after that, no one moved. Uh-oh. Someone better get their feet going before the peacekeepers get involved. I couldn't see very much, but I saw someone's hand fly into the air.

"I volun- volunteer!"

That's when it happened, someone from the girls side started to wail, and I mean really cry. I could hear her from over here in the guys section. Cringing I prayed for her to stop, not for my sake, but her own. Eventually she quieted down, I don't know why, maybe someone clamped a hand over her mouth.

The escort congradulated the almost raven haired girl. She looked visibly upset and I sympathized her situation. While I was so busy feeling sorry for her, I missed the first part to the male tributes name, but I heard the last.

"-Archer!"

For a moment I was startled, and didn't know what to do. Then it came to me, he just called my name! Looking around for my father I uncrossed my arms and began to walk towards the stage. Balling up my fists and pushing anything that dared bubble to the surface back down, I mounted the platform and stode over to stand off to the side of the escort. I waited, along with everyone else, waited for someone to relieve me of my plight. No one volunteered. Breathing in deeply, I tightened my lips into a straight line and put my arms behind my back.

"Congratulations! District Four, your 78th Hunger Games tributes!"

He stood there for a moment, letting the crowd roar with excitement and pride. Then moved back allowing us room for a handshake. I put my hand out first, to my surprise it was as steady as a rock. I never let emotions show, but I didn't think I was capable of this kind of calmness. Hazel, that was the name of my partener, eyed my hand cautiously and looked back up at me. I don't know why, but I smiled. Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit and gigerly she put her hand in my own. Man it was shaking, like a leaf. I put my other hand on top of it to stop the jerky movements. Patting her hand slightly I let go and we both turned to the cowd, waving mournfully. I looked for my father, but couldn't find him, he was probably at the Justice building waiting for me to say my goodbyes.

And that was it. We were carted down the steps by peacekeepers, and we followed obediently. It was like a blur, and I had a feeling the next couple weeks of my life were going to be just that- a blur.

I closed my eyes, _I'm so sorry dad.. I'm so sorry._

**Authors note: Woot woot! District four is complete! I hope you like it! I know I did, these are going to be some interesting games. Agian, thanks for the positive reviews! It keeps me going! I'll begin to work on District five tomorrow! Hopefully I can get it up by tomorrow night. Now, my fingers hurt so I'm going to get off the computer now. Btw, make sure you look at the poll I put up on my page :) has to do with everyone's tribute!**


	10. District Five Reapings: Monique & Tim

_Monique Steel:_

Smiling evily I jumped up into the air and spun, my foot connecting violently with Janely's jaw bone. There was an audible cracking noise as I landed on all fours. She fell onto her side and rolled around, clutching at her now injured face. I hope she doesn't get reaped- broken bones weren't something you wanted to bring along to the Games. Then again, even if she was chosen, I would be there to take her place. Not for her own pathetic self, but for me.

Satisfied I stood up and dusted my hands off on my pants. The entire room erupted in applause and with an air of sweetness I walked over to Janely, and offered her my hand. She stared at it for a moment, then looked up into my eyes. Smirking at the bruise already taking shape below her right cheek, I asked her if she needed any help getting up. That's when whispered, "Bitch!" and spit on me. _Right in my face_.

My reaction was exact, as well as immidiate. Slamming my knee down painfully on her chest, I pinned her to the floor, balled up my fist and began striking her with full force across the face. Blood began to fly and she started screaming. I just gritted my teeth and continued the beating I knew she deserved. Pretty soon though, I felt a pair of hands grip me under the arms and begin to pull me back, twisting my hand in her hair I dragged her with me and started to kick. Someone else grabbed Janly's shirt collar and jerked her out of my grip.

Breathing heavily I watched as she was inspected by our class medic. A long time ago some boy died after getting brutally beaten in a match, and it was because they couldn't get him to a hospital in time to stop the blood loss. That was the only reason we had a practiced nurse on sight. However, at that moment I would have given a lot to see that girl suffer instead of getting all numbed up by some dumb ass doctor.

After I had calmed down, the arms that had been holding me back let loose. I considered going after the girl again, but thought better of it. Turning to see who would dare interupt my fight, I realized it was the coach himself. Arms crossed he looked down on me and cocked a brow expectantly, awaiting my reason for such rash behavior.

"I'm sorry." Rubbing at my throbing knuckles I looked back at Janely and then again up at Coach Whithers. Closing my eyes I shook my head dramatically, "I can't believe I did that. I didn't think I'd lose control."

Smiling sympathetically he put a hand on my shoulder, "Listen, it's okay. You just have to learn to keep better control of yourself. You are almost a master, you just need to learn inner peace and balance. Out of all the years of training, don't you think you should allow yourself that much?" Turning his attention to Janely he walked over to her and knelt down, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, unable to speak because of the ice pack covering her face. Tilting my head, I almost giggled. Learn to control myself? Who was he kidding, I had perfect control. The bruising session I'd just given that girl was no accident, it was absolutely intentional. He continued speaking with her, "Look, you were kind of asking for it by spitting at her. I can not punish either of you, or commend you. Both of you girls acted completely disrespectful towards one another." He frowned at Janely in pity, "Do you want someone to take you home?"

We locked eyes and her gaze narrowed, "No." Throwing the ice pack down she began to stand, "I want a rematch."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. Covering my mouth I turned away from the scene before I made a further fool of myself. Every student was watching me with trepidation. They were expecting me to do something slightly delusional, something mean. Not giving them the satisfaction I started to walk out of the ring. From behind I heard Janely shouting at me, "Hey! Get back here! We're not done!"

"Yes we are. Let that face of yours heal up, I'll fight you again after I've won the Games." I threw over my shoulder.

Prancing down the stairs I strutted to the girls locker room. After changing out of my robes, and folding up my belt I tucked them away in my locker and left the gym. Leaving I was followed by a parade of friends. They all congradulated me on my victory, and I merely smiled. We parted ways, and I went home to get ready for the reapings- followed by two of my best friends who insisted on helping me choose an outfit for the event.

Once home, we bounded up the stairs into my room, and began the search for the clothing that would suffice for the most important day of the year.

"How about this?"

I looked up from my magazine and saw Madison holding up a black tank top and a short red and white striped skirt. Pursing my lips I thought about myself in the outfit and decided against it, "Nah, I never really liked that top."

Madison huffed in aggravation and journeyed back into my walk in closet, I heard Emmy whisper to her, "Told you she wouldn't like it.", and smiled to myself.

They began arguing quietly and I ignored their bickering, returning my attention back to the article I was reading. It was about Katniss, of course. They had made sure to capture her in an image that displayed defeat rather than victory. Supposedly she had basically dropped off the face of the earth, convenient. Pretty girl, she didn't look like the kind that was capable of so much trouble.

_"This is what comes of rebellion- chaos. I can not imagine how anyone could be so selfish as to risk the lives of so many and then disapear into hiding, leaving an entire nation to suffer and clean up the mess they left behind. Mark my words, there will be justice. In what form it comes I know not, but it is imminent, and Miss. Everdeen can not escape it. As to her where abouts we are offering a large award..."_

It went on to speak of other things, and I lost intrest in it. Throwing it onto a pillow I sat up on my bed and stared into the closet, "Have you guys found anything yet?"

Emmy was pushed out of the tiny room and had something blue folded up in her arms, looking back at Madison, and then at me again. Finally she held up a gorgeous blue mini dress, "What do you think?" She inquired hesitantly.

I raised my brows and examined the garment, getting off the bed I took it from her and went into the bathroom to try it on. It was super tight and short, I loved it.

Spinning around in my bedroom I held my arms up, "Well? How does it look on me?"

Madison nodded in approval and Emmy clapped her hands, "It looks amazing!"

Crossing her arms, Madi agreed, "Yep. I'd say we're done here. I know I'm not looking for anymore clothes."

Madi had always been the less obedient of the two. She often tried to argue with things I had to say, and even stand up to me. I'm going to tell you right now, I was mean- cruel even. Rebellion was one thing I despised. There always had to be someone that made the decisions, someone who decided how things should be run. I was that kind of person, a leader... or a dictator, take your pick. Either way, I didn't appreciate it when people talked back to me or got sarcastic.

"Thanks." I said dryly. Madison was very good at ruining my good moods. The only reason that she was my friend was because she was rich. Perhaps that was the reason for her behavior, like myself, no one tells her what to do. My friends were the only people I didn't have to 'act' around. Of course, I'd pretend to be a kind caring girl at first, but after a certain length of time, I'd begin to let the sarcasm and cruelty drip like a dam breaking on a river. The water would chip away the concrete peice by peice until the whole structure gave way and allowed the energy to flow full force.

I went back into the bathroom and began to apply my make up. Patting powdered foundation onto my face and sweeping blush across my cheeks, I tilted my face back and forth to examine my progress. Then, after putting on false lashes and a tube of lip gloss, I pinned my shiny blonde hair up and slipped my feet into a pair of black ballet flats. They were snug, comfortable, and expensive.

Taking the saphire ring I would use as my token off the counter, I eased it onto my ring finger and danced out of the bathroom.

"Finished."

Emmy was sitting on the bed and hopped off excitedly, "Oh! You look really pretty!"

"Thanks!" I spun once more and she watched with obvious jealousy. Madison, on the other hand, just sat in one of my loveseats and rolled her eyes.

I ignored her and spritzed some perfume on each wrist, "You guys ready?"

Emmy nodded and pulled Madi out of her seat, "Lets go."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming." Madison followed reluctantly.

"So, how do you feel about volunteering?" Emmy asked, trying to make conversation.

"What do you mean? I'm volunteering so doesn't that pretty much say it all?"

Contemplating this fact, she looked up with shock, "Oh, yeah. It kinda does, doesn't it?"

Shaking my head, I laughed at her studpidity. That was the biggest reason why Madison was a better person to have around, she wasn't completely brainless.

Racing downstairs, we ran into my parents along the way out the door.

"You girls want to ride in the car with us?" My father tossed the keys in the air and smiled proudly.

I frowned at the offer, "Well-"

Madison cut me off. "Yes! Yes, please!" If my parents hadn't been there I would have let her have a peice of my mind.

"Great."

Following him out to the black Sabre in our drive we all piled in. My mom was sitting in the back, so I got in the front passenger seat. She was the reason I didn't want to ride with them.

Ever since I made the decision to volunteer she'd been all over me about it. Saying it wasn't my place and that she didn't want me risking my life that way. She said if I did win I'd regret it, that'd I'd feel guilty and hate myself. What was the difference? Would she tell me that if I'd gotten reaped and no one took my place? I'd told her that day, 'I'm not doing it for the glory, I'm doing it to save someone's life.'. I think she knew, though, that it was all for me.

Most people thought I was a sweet, innocent young girl. They thought I didn't like training because I was afraid of hurting people. They weren't anywhere near my main goal. I knew the difference between life and death in that arena. Sponsors. Sure, you obviously had to fight for it, but in the end- they were the ones that sent you medicine, food, water, even weapons. I knew I needed to appear like a winner, and a saint at the same time. I had to show them that I was a true victor, a heroine. Someone people looked up to, and feared at the same time.

"So, have you decided yet?"

I didn't even bother looking back at my mom to answer her, I don't think I could take the sadness, "I told you. My mind's made up, I decided to volunteer a long time ago."

"Oh." Looking in the rearview mirror I saw her head go down; no doubt to hide the tears that were sure to come raining down at any given moment.

Madison gripped her hand and my mom held onto it for dear life. At this, I felt a pang of jealousy. If there was anyone that I thought could beat me at something, it was Madi. In truth that might be another reason why I kept her around. You know, keep friends close and enemies closer? I smiled, that would be a big part of my strategy for the games.

Nothing more was said, except for a few encouraging comments from my father. By the time we had reached the square, it was crowded with people.

We filed out of the car and after saying our goodbyes made slow progress towards the 16s section. I smiled at a few of my friends and made conversation with people I barely knew. Emmy went and got us drinks from a stand and something to snack on while we waited for the mayor. When he finally shimied his way across the stage we tossed our trash and eagerly anticipated the end of his speech.

After what seemed to be a milenium, it came. Then, our district escort, approached the podiem. She had little tuffs of hair going all the way around her head, and was practically oozing glitter out her pores.

"Good afternoon District Five! I am Toff, your escort this year. Happy Hunger Games everybody!"

No one cheered, we were all to anxious for her to draw a name. You would not believe what happened next, it cracked me up.

"Janely Thorton."

I bursted out laughing and as she made her way up the steps. I thrust my hand in the air and yelled as loud as I could, "I volunteer!"

Running for the stage, which wasn't far away because we were practically standing on top of it, I passed Janely on her way back. I slowed as I went by her, and she stopped and stuck out her hand. Looking at it with disgust, I grasped it and shook it with maybe too much force.

"I hope you die." She whispered happily.

Letting go I wiped my hand off on my dress, "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person who just did you the biggest favor of your life."

"That's true. You are doing me a favor by commiting suicide. I'll enjoy watching you get stabbed in the back by someone as fake as yourself. You've heard of that kind of thing right? It's called... Karma."

Feeling the urge to shove her own head down her neck, I resisted it and just shrugged. "What ever. I'm liking your facial by the way."

I then skipped up the stairs and over to Toff. She smiled with delight, "And who are you, precious?"

Smiling with courage I leaned into the mic, "My name is Monique Steel."

She drew it back, "That's a pretty name. Why did you volunteer for Janely?"

"She was in a tight spot as it was, with her face and all. I didn't think it was fair that she'd have to go to the games injured. Besides, I like the idea of volunteering, I'm ready for this."

The audience applauded me and I straightened up my shoulders. Listening to the sound, I thought about my future. This was what I would come back to, a crowd cheering for me, and me only. I couldn't wait to start, I wanted to leave right that moment. I'm a career, and I'm ready.

Toff continued on to pick a boys name, and I grinned. To bad for that guy, he didn't know what was really waiting up here for him. All he would see was a blue eyed, five foot, 89 pound girl. No one knew what was getting ready to hit the playing feild. Sweet? Innocent? Of course I was... on the outside.

_Timothy Jones *Bloodbath*:_

_"I'm sorry about your son Mr. Jones, but there is nothing I can do. It has spread to far. He has two years maximum before the disease kills him." The doctor rubs his eyes, "I wish we had caught it sooner, I really do. He is truly a wonderful boy."_

And then I woke up. Want to know what the worst part is? It's a memory, not a nightmare. Throwing the blanket off myself I head to my bathroom and wash the sleep away with cold water, but not before gathering a few clothing articles for today's main event. My shower takes 20 minutes, rather than the usual five. Mostly because I'm leaning against the door, shaking from the aftershock of the dream that I'd just had. The same one that I have experienced every night since I was thirteen. A year and a half later, here I stand, having lost over twenty seven pounds and gaining no muscle.

A tear slips down my cheek and the water shooting from the showerhead batters my skin relentlessly. Wiping it away, I concentrate on my breathing, trying to control the sobs that are sure to rack my body soon.

I promised myself I wouldn't cry about my cancerous disease, but today is different. Today, I will volunteer for the Hunger Games. Hitting the shower wall with my fist, the tears boil over and mix with the water, down the drain. Never to be seen by anyone. I don't want to volunteer, I don't want to die. However, I refuse to let something that I can't fight take my life.

If it isn't enough that my disease has taken my future from me, it has also stolen my past and present. None of my friends wish to speak with me anymore, most just ignore me. Some even tease me. Can you believe that? The first time it happened I was stunned, I couldn't breathe. Laying in bed that night I thought about what that girl had said to me and bawled. Funny, now I can't even recall her words. This was the first time I had cried since then, and that was over a year ago.

During last years reapings, I desired to volunteer, but I was foolish enough to think there'd be a way I could pull through it. At this thought, I touched the flesh over my heart and closed my eyes. It didn't feel like there was something at fault with it. The organ beat rythmically, with enough passion to send blood coursing through my veins at a severly alarming rate. One would think it was indestructible, the way it surged on despite its diagnosis.

Anyway, after last years reapings were through with, life didn't get better like I had hoped. It got worse, much worse. I blamed my position on the doctor. I blamed it on my father. I blamed myself. Like most do at first, I thought that perhaps the data was wrong, I prayed that it had gotten mixed up some how, and that I was healthy- that some other boy out there was going to die. Not me. What had I ever done to the world? Nothing, that's what. Sure, I wasn't the purist of souls out there, but I wasn't the most tainted either.

Finally, I accepted my fate, it was inevidable to begin with. My dad kept trying to convince me that it might simply vanish, but they knew as well as I, diseases aren't cured by maricles. They're cured by science. At the moment, science was the least important thing on Panem's mind. I wasn't important.

Turning the knobs in my shower off, I stepped out onto the cold tiled floor. Wrapping a towel around myself I slid down the wall and sat for a few minutes, massaging my temples. They were throbbing. Why was life so unfair? Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagined myself in the games. Dying in the arena. I would be killed by some horrible career, or maybe by some terrified 12 year old child, and I would thank them. Thank them for saving me from my disease. It would not take me, I would not allow it.

Standing up shakily, I dried the rest of me off and slipped on a t-shirt, and a pair of black shorts. Staring at my reflection, I mechanically combed my hair and brushed my teeth. Putting the tooth brush down, I touched a few fingers to my trembling lips. I don't know why my body wouldn't obey me. Trying with all my might to make them stop moving, they slowed to a mere quiver. Satisfied, I washed the tear streaks off my face and blew my nose. I had to stay in the small room for a while, waiting for my face to return to it's pale color.

When I went back into my bedroom, Gabe, my 13 year old brother, was there waiting for me, like I figured he would be. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his blue jeans, and his face was serene.

Smiling at him, he offered a tiny upturn of the corner of his mouth. Gabe was the only one that knew I planned on volunteering today. He screamed at me the first time I revealed my intentions to him. Yelling about how I was being selfish, that I couldn't do this to dad, or to him. Then he cried, then yelled some more about me making him cry. Then cried again.

"What's up, Gabe?"

He shrugged and crossed his arms. Even though Gabe was a year younger than me, he looked much bigger. His 5"8 frame made my own 5"6 stature appear weak. Yet, he didn't have a disease eating away at his insides.

"Nothing." Picking at the maroon covers, he leaned against the bed post, "You still doing it?"

I nodded abruptly and threw open the curtains, letting the light into my dark room. He went over to my drawer and threw me a pair of socks, I caught them as he went on.

"You can't expect me to _not_ try and stop you. Please, just once more, think about what you're doing." He began using hand gestures, which was a serious sign that he was about to blow his top.

"Look, I'm not going to change my mind." Shaking my head I turned my back to him and sat on my bed to pull my socks on. "You wouldn't understand."

He ran around the bed to stand infront of me, "No! You don't get it, I do understand. I understand perfectly. You may have an IQ of like 173, and mine may be about 40 points lower, but I'm not a complete idiot."

I squinted up at him, "I never said you were stupid. I said you didn't understand."

"Ah!" He balled up his fists and spun around, "That's what I'm trying to tell you! I do get it! You don't want the cancer to be the thing that takes your life! I get that!" He clutched at his chest, "I'd feel the same way. What you don't get is that volunteering for the games is like letting it win! That's not the way to fight this!" He gripped my shoulders, as if shaking me would make me see things differently, "What you need to do is, I don't know," I listened blankly as he searched for the right words, "Have fun!" Cocking a brow at him doubtfully he shook his hand, "Okay, that's not the way I meant it. What I mean, is live like nothing has happened at all."

I stood up, and he moved, following me over to my closet, "It's kind of late for that, Gabe."

"Please! Just please!" I laced up my black sneakers as he stooped over me pleading, "I don't want you to go."

Standing once more I walked for the door, "I don't want to go either, I have to."

"I'll volunteer before you!"

This stopped me in my tracks, I turned and glared at him, "Do that and I'll kill you."

"I'm serious, Tim. I'll get it out before you."

"No you wont."

His eyes darted around and he puffed up his chest, "Will to."

"Wont!"

"Will!"

Gabes shoulders drooped, grabbing hold of the post he used it to guide himself to the floor. My own body relaxed at the sight of him. He had his head and his hands and his breathing had quickened. I saw the tremors shoot through him as he tried to control the sobs.

Going over to him I sat cross- legged beside him and patted his back. "Gabe, I can't." My voice broke, "I can't live like this. My heart is dying. I'm dying. I can't let you guys see me in a hospital bed for the last few months of my life. I'd rather it be over quickly." This didn't help, he just cried harder and began to sniffle. "Do you know what that would do to mom and dad? Worse than anything the Games could do to me. Could you imagine watching me die like that? Getting thiner and paler every day. Having to say goodbye every day because you wouldn't know if you'd wake up the next morning and I'd be dead?"

He put his head between his knees to hide his face, "Please don't go. You can't leave me."

I hugged him, "Gabe, I don't want to leave you. I just want to feel better. I want to be free... it's killing me to have to wait this long. I thought I could do it, but I just can't. It'll be over quick in the arena. I won't feel any pain." I looked at him, "Do you want me to be in pain for two straight months? Waiting to die?" He shook his head and sniffled loudly, "I don't want to either."

Suddenly he straightened up. Wiping his nose off on his sleeve, he stood and helped me to my feet. "Fine. I tried."

We both had to stay in my room for about 5 minutes before we could leave. Gabes face took longer than mine did to lose its red color.

Running downstairs for breakfast we saw dad leaned against the counter sipping at a cup of coffee and reading something on his phone. He shook his head and laughed,

"Man, you boys ought to hear about these tributes. I'll read a bit to you." We sat down at the table and began to eat the food already laid out for us, listening as our dad talked, "District One has produced the fiercest tributes thus far. With one being a experienced, battered beauty, and the other a drug inspired body builder, both are sure to go a long way in the games. District Two is another to watch out for, as expected their tributes are well rounded fighters, the female appeared to be confident and denied anyone the option of volunteering in her place. The male, is another to watch out for. He volunteered to keep his friend out of the games proving himself capable of bravery. District Three was a bit of a surprise this year. The female tribute was reaped and although it seemed she was waiting for a volunteer, no one came to her rescue. However, it didn't seem that she'd need a hero, she was perfectly calm about the whole dilema. Her district partener was visibly shaken, but don't let that fool you- he has the brains to get by. Lastly, District Four produced very likable tributes. One being a couageous girl, taking the place of her best friend who was suffering from serious health complications. The other, a good looking, strong young man, who showed no emotion. These Games are sure to be intersesting if unique tributes like these keep coming."

Gabe and I stared at each other awkwardly.

"What do you guys think of that?"

We just shrugged and scarffed down the rest of our breakfast, avoiding the subject.

"Well, I'll start the car, you boys finish up."

Watching until dad was gone, Gabe turned to me, "You're going to be one of them."

I just drank the rest of my orange juice and ignored his comment.

Meeting our dad outside in the car, I got in next to my brother. There was no getting sympathy or comfort from a mother, ours had died giving birth to Gabe. All we had was dad, and he wasn't very good at being motherly. Bless his soul, he tried, he really did. You can imagine what it did to him when he found out about the cancer. He'd already lost his wife, now he was going to lose his first born. Dad got depressed, and I mean he hit rock bottom. He didn't talk to anyone for weeks after my diagnosis.

He pulled me out of school and made me go everywhere with him, a year ago I convinced him to let me try and finish my education. I regretted it though, because everything changed. I used to be the popular, dirty blonde, social extravaganza of the school. However, after all my friends heard about my condition, they ran with their tails between their legs. I guess they were all too afraid to befriend me and then deal with the sadness of my loss a year and a half later.

"So, how are you boys doing?" I saw dad smile in the rearview mirror.

"Okay. Nervous about the reapings though."

He waved his hand, "Don't worry about it. If one of you boys do get picked, and I doubt you will, someone will volunteer."

Gabe looked over at me and drilled holes into my skull with his eyes. I flinched and looked out the window as dad tore out of the drive.

We arived at the reapings about two minutes before the Mayor walked across the stage to volunteer. I stood in the 14's section, arms at my sides, grinding my teeth. I was finally going to do it. The moment I'd been stressing over for almost a year had finally come. This year's escort took the mayor's place once he'd finished his mandatory speech. Someone volunteered for the girl that got reaped, and she really made a show out of herself. I didn't know her, but there was something off about the chick. Her sweet smile seemed... sour.

Toff, the escort, reached for a boy's name.

"Enfam Glade."

Some guy from the 16s section advanced towards the stage hesitantly, and I put my hand in the air.

"I volunteer!"

Stepping forward, I heard a bit of commotion. My dad maybe? I'm sure this was destroying him right now. Although I didn't want it to. Gabe would have to tell him everything.

"Oh, my." The escort looked me up and down once I had taken my place beside her on the stage. "Well, uh, dearie, tell us your name."

She held the mic out, and I got a little to close making it shriek some, "My name is Timothy Jones."

"Well, congratulations, Timothy." She turned her attention to the district, "May I present your tributes this year!"

Taking a step back she gave me room to offer my hand to my female district patner. I held it out and she smiled innocently. Grasping my hand she shook it delicately, as if it would fall off.

"My name's Monique. Nice to meet you." Her smile was too big, it showed to many teeth.

Grimacing I pried my hand out of hers, "Yeah, okay."

I then focused on the audience, not waving, like Monique. Just standing there and looking. My final thought before we were carted of the stage by peacekeepers was this, _I win._

**Authors note: Yay! It is done. You have no idea how bad my fingers hurt right now! I must really love you guys. Sorry for the late update, the realities of the world are catching up to me. Now, I guess my poll isn't showing up on my profile, so here's the question- How should the death of characters be decided? Randomly (so it's fair), deliberately (so the story has and edge), half and half, or some based on reviews, then randomly/deliberately. I want to be fair, but I also want the story to have an element of drama to it. The reviews thing means, if someone posted a character and didn't follow after that, then I'll kill that character off. I can do it based on that first and then randomly, intentionally, or half/half. Please rate these choices- 1 being what you prefer most. Thanks! And I'm loving these reviews, some of them are cracking me up! I'll put in points some time tomorrow! Sorry about mistakes, I'm tired and want to get this in. I'll go back and fix them later.**


	11. District Six: Maia & Erik

_Maia Colt:_

We were gathered around the tiny television set, watching the reapings with intense ferocity. The screen flickered and danced like a dying light bulb because our reception was so lame, but it was all we had, so we didn't complain outwardly. In fact it was more than what most people in this part of the district could ever hope to own in a life time.

At the moment, we are watching a replay of district four. A handsome boy and a shocked looking girl are shaking hands. The emotions I gather from the scene? Fear, hatred, doubt. Will they make an alliance? Hell, would they kill each other in the end? Or would they even make it that far?

The guy looked like he could handle himself pretty well, it would also be easy for him to get sponsors, he kind of reminded me of another Finnick- strong, and handsome. I bet his weapon of choice would be a trident, maybe a spear. The girl looked plain scared, you could tell she was trying to be tough, but it wasn't working for her. She had volunteered for her friend though, so that must count for something. Right? I mean you've got to have guts if your willing to literally risk your own neck for someone else.

Then came Five, the district before our own. This was where things started to drop, maybe not drastically but you could spot the slowness. There weren't as many volunteers, the tributes began to become less experienced. Most didn't bother training, although there were a select few.

However, this district was perhaps one of the biggest surprises so far. Not only were there two volunteers, but the boy looked like he was about to keel over. He was kind of skinny and worn out looking. When he rose his hand to take the place of another boy, I was absolutely astounded. Everyone in the room was at a loss for words. There was clearly something wrong with him, health wise. He was only 14 years old and he looked like he was 80. His overall appearance could be summed up in one word- tired. Poor guy, I decided I liked him right away. The girl was a bit of a shocker as well, usually volunteers were sparse for Five, but this one looked like a career. She had the overall confidence of one, and looked like a big old bitch. I definetely wouldn't want my neck to be at the tip of her sword.

Then the news person came back on and began talking, "There you have it, so far the tributes have proven to be unique in character. There's no telling what we'll get from them, though one thing is certain- this year will be unlike any other. Since the rebellion started by Katniss Everdeen the Capitol has been stiring with emotions, and now that the Games are back on it will be more exciting than ever."

Mom clicked the T.V off and I turned to see her face. It was filled with some kind of passion, although I don't know whether it was related to violence or sadness. Yet, just as soon as the feeling took place, it vanished. She was good at hiding her true feelings, the reason I was the way I am now was all thanks to her. My mother was a strong willed woman, bent on allowing me as much freedom as she could. Sometimes, though, I wish she would reveal a bit more. The last time she shed a tear was after my father's abrupt death at the hand of a peacekeeper.

It was a long time ago, at least before my brother, Finn, could remember, and he was seven. It happened about six years ago, on a night like any other. Dad had been working all day, trying to pick up extra shifts. When he came home late, he sat down to have a drink. Well, one turned into two, and that turned into about twenty. He didn't usually drink alchol, but that day had been gnawing away at him like a starving dog on a bloody bone.

Our family had been in a deep hole, and no matter how hard we tried to climb out of it, we fell back in every time. Who did my dad blame his issues on? The Capitol, but he couldn't eactly attack the Capitol directly could he? My mom tried to talk him out of it, he still left our house in a violent, spontaneous rage. He said he'd be back soon, and she believed him. That was the first time I'd ever seen him truly angry, and I would never have another chance to after that.

He found the nearest peacekeepers, hurled one insult and was shot; no questions asked. So with him dead, my brother and I were fatherless, and my mother was a widow. Like I said, that's the only time I've ever seen her cry, and so far it's been the last. I don't mean to sound emotionless, but I try not to think about it. The experience has hardened me, made me fear things now that I didn't before.

"That was something." Finn chimed in.

"Not anything that we haven't seen." Mom got up and went into the kitchen to do dishes.

Frowning at her response, he shifted towards me, "I guess so. What'd you think Maia?"

I shrugged. In case you wanted to know, I'm not a girl of many words. Which is why most of my peers didn't want to be friendly with me. The only people I could really relate to were currently lounging on my couch. Delia, Christie, Emmeline, and Lyra were my only good friends, and even around them I sometimes found myself secluded from the group. I was the least attractive of them all, at least that's what I thought. The only thing I liked about myself was the vivid red color of my hair. That was the only thing really memorable about me. Oh, and I guess I had a lazy eye.

You would not believe how bad people are freaked out by lazy eyes. At my school it earned me degrading nicknames and insults, and that wasn't the worst of it. I had a small limp from an accident I was in when I was younger. So I guess you could call me a bit of a freak, that's what everyone else calls me.

"Hey, Maia, want to go get ready?"

I nodded and pushed myself up off the floor, following my friends down the hallway to my room. Changing into a soft, green blouse and a pink skirt, I didn't bother checking my appearance. No make-up to worry about smudging, and I already know what I look like so why would I have a reason to inspect myself?

Journeying back into my bedroom I saw Lyra and Christie putting blush and eyeshadow on each other. Delia and Emmeline were laying on their stomachs on my bed chatting up a storm, and I was just standing there. Remember how I said sometimes I found myself on the outside? Well, right now was a good example of one of those times. The weird thing was, I didn't mind. People just didn't mix well with me.

Sitting at my desk I tapped my fingers on the wood top, waiting for my mom to yell that it was time to go. Was I nervous about the reapings? Yes. I didn't know of anyone that wasn't. Out of all the kids that could be reaped, you think, 'it couldn't be me', the next thing you know you're up on that stage and then whisked away to an arena filled with a bunch of blood thirsty morons.

"What do you think Maia?"

I looked up to see that Lyra had purposely made Christie resemble a dead woman. She was giggling like it was some big secret and I smiled and rolled my eyes.

Christie looked back and forth between us, "What? Does it look bad?"

"Lyra does that to you every time. Why do you believe her when she says she won't?" I suppose Emmeline was the meanest of the bunch, and she wasn't a harsh person compared to most- only when compared to us.

The look on Christie's face went cold, "You promised you wouldn't do that!" Jerking a hand held mirror out of her pocket she practically fainted at her own reflection. "Argh! You're such a snot!"

Throwing the mirror down she took a dive for Lyra, but the blonde was to quick and jumped out of the way. Chasing one another around the room, Lyra ran out the door with Christie hot on her heels.

The rest of the afternoon was something similar to that: getting ready, fighting, messing around. We were all restless for the Reapings to come and go, including myself.

Obviously I wasn't a big fan of the Capitol or its Hunger Games. Who could do that? Who could pit 24 kids against each other just for the fun of it? Then again, I guess it wasn't for the fun of it. I could understand taking drastic measures to stop rebellions, and to keep them from happening once more, but if your government was fair, then it's safe to say there wouldn't be a rebellion in the first place, right? Maybe they saw that, but chose brutaility over justice because peace didn't work so well in the distant past.

The door to my room gently swung open and my mom poked her head in, "Time to go girls."

Suddenly the happy mood turned melancholy. Our movements were slugish and the conversation had died down. I gave each of my friends quick hugs and left with my mom and brother to go to the reapings while they left to go be with their own families.

On our walk towards the square we were passed by numerous cars and people that we knew. My mom talked to some, but mostly just waved and smiled. I can't tell you how glad I am that Finn isn't eligable for the games, it would kill me to see him called up to that stage and have no one to volunteer for him. If it weren't for him, I probably wouldn't understand why my dad had been so angry and rash with those peacekeepers. Shaking the thought from my head, I straightened up and continued on my way.

The reapings were crowded as expected, and the level of shouting and general commotion was almost too much to bare. Giving my little brother a huge hug I kissed him on the top of his head. "I love you." I said into his hair.

Putting his own arms around me he told me he loved me too. I then hugged my mom, and she gave me a peck on both my cheeks. Parting from one's family was always the hardest part about these events, you never knew if it would be the second to last time you ever saw them.

They waved at me until I disapeared into the throng of people. I rammed my way to the sixteen section, and found my group of friends already huddled together, all except Delia who was 15 and couldn't be with us. Lyra looked up, saw me, and squealed, "Hey!"

I waved and joined the tiny party. "How are you?" Christie rubbed at her arms, trying to erase the goosebumps that were the result of fear.

"Okay." I said nonchalantly.

Emmeline exhaled, "Yeah, I knew you'd be totally cool with this."

I cocked a brow, "I'm not cool with it."

She rolled her eyes and stared off into the crowd. I didn't get mad at her for the false accusation, she was simply short tempered- I had grown use to it over the years.

"Look!" Lyra pointed to the stage as our Mayor walked towards the podieum. The audience quieted and listened respectfully as she spoke of past rebellions and District Six Hunger Games victors. Her speech ended with our applause at the advancement of the escort. No one liked the Mayor, she was a ruthless whore.

The escort tapped the mic, and leaned into it excitedly, "Good Afternoon District Six! Are you ready for the 78th Hunger Games reapings to begin?" She looked like a toad, only blue with green spots.

We pretended to be hysterical about the event and roared with pride and anticipation. Even I clapped softly, for fear of a peacekeeper spotting my non-supportive spirit.

"Lets start with the girls!" She dipped a spotted hand into the female's glass ball and mixed up all the names. Plucking one out she waved it around in the air triumphantly, and eyed the slip. "Maia Colt."

The moment she said my first name, my jaw dropped. What the Hell? There was no way she just said my name... right? I heard my friends talking to me, saying goodbye, and crying desperately. That's when I lifted my chin, balled up my fists and stomped my way up that damn stage. _Look good for sponsors. Look good for sponsors._ When I reached the escort she frowned at my appearance, and I glared at her with boiling hatred.

She waited awkwardly for the volunteer that would never come, and finally turned back to me and beamed, "Congratulations!" She practically screamed it at me.

I looked down at my feet and closed my eyes tightly, not bothering to give the audience that didn't care whether I lived or died the satisfaction of seeing me cry silent tears. The sooner these reapings were through with, the easier everything after that would be. Shit. I don't know how to use weapons, or how to track, or kill or anything useful. What the Hell was I going to do when I got out there in that arena? Looking up I stared past the crowd, blocking out all the sights and sounds until I was some place where nothing could touch me. It would all be over soon...

_Erik Traub:_

I was up before Andrew, my younger brother. Looking over to the other bed I see his chest rising and falling peacefully, and don't have the heart to tell him to get up and ready for the reapings today. I'll take a shower first and let him wake up, hopefully, on his own. Rolling out of bed I steer myself towards our shared dresser and decide on an outfit. We're not rich, so the choice is easy. Plucking a light blue polo and a pair of blue jean shorts from a drawer I head to the bathroom to take a shower. On my way down the hallway I glance at an old wooden clock hanging on the wall. It's four in the morning, no wonder Andrew's not awake. My parents probably weren't even up yet.

Considering going back to bed, I end up taking a shower anyway. After I put my clothes on and brush my teeth, I spike my short black hair. Out of all the things I don't have going for me, at least I have my hair. Before leaving the bathroom I catch sight of the scale under the sink. My fingers are iching to pull it out so I can weigh myself, but my mind says don't. You wont be happy with what you see. Smiling I wave the thought away and leave the scale all by its lonesome in the dark.

Back in the bedroom, Andrew is still snoring his head off. Somtimes I got a little jealous of my brother- he was skinny. Naturally I didn't like being chubby, so it was obvious I would envy him. I had convinced myself a long time ago that life wasn't about how much you weighed, so it didn't bother me as much anymore. Still, though, every once in a while I felt a painful sting in my stomach. I wasn't fat and if I wore the right clothes, I looked pretty good. However, lately we haven't been able to afford new shirts and such, so I was stuck wearing my tight fitting clothes from when I was younger.

Putting on a pair of clean socks, I tip-toed down the hall to the kitchen for breakfast. To my delight, dad was already there, pouring himself a glass of juice.

"Good morning!" I said behind him.

Whirling he around he spotted me and held a finger to his lips, "Shh, your mom's still sleeping."

I flinched, "Sorry." I whispered.

"It's okay." Taking a sip of his drink, he set it down on the counter top, "We both know how she gets."

"Yeah." I scanned the fridge and picked out a green apple.

"Sorry about today, I hate that you kids have to do this." He shook his head sadly.

My parents were extra worried about us this year because we signed up for Tessarae. When I had asked them if I could sign up, they said that there was absolutely no way that was happening. Parents can't watch every move their kids make though, I went ahead and put my name down. They were furious, but mostly scared. Mom wouldn't talk to me for a week, and it seemed like every time my dad saw me he yelled at me for it. I couldn't blame them, I was their son and basically betrayed them.

Then, Andrew signed up for it. Oh man, all Hell broke loose. They both kind of lost it, and had a major month long break down. No matter how many times we told them it didn't matter, mom cried and dad yelled. Don't get me wrong, my parents aren't violent people, they're just emotional. Neither of them came from wealthy families, so we were the most precious things they had, and it was almost like we were taking ourselves away from them. Mom took it the hardest. She blamed everything on herself because it was her injury that meant she couldn't work in the first place.

"Did you read the news?" I only asked the question to stir conversation.

He nodded, "Yep. Nothing unexpected." Dad was talking about the tributes, "Let's see... District One: Scarred up, girl, Drugged up boy."

My brows rose at that one, and I listened as he continued,

"District Two: Confident young lady, heroic boy. District Three: Sweet little thing, and a smart looking young man. District Four: Brave girl, Strong boy. District Five: Feirce girl, sickly boy."

"Sickly?"

"Uh huh. Poor kid, he volunteered. I think there must have been something wrong with him. He didn't look like the type of person to volunteer for the glory." He cocked his head and looked at me, "Why are you up so early?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, just couldn't get much sleep last night."

He laughed, "Doesn't that mean you should be sleeping in?"

"I guess so." Rubbing at my eyes, I now realized how tired I actually was.

Dad walked over to the table and sat down across from me. "I really am sorry, Erik. If I could change things..."

"It's okay. Everything's going to be great! Don't worry!" I smiled.

Grinning doubtfully he rubbed his hands together, "You know, I never got to tell you-"

"You boys are up early." Mom yawned and stretched her arms tiredly. Her hair was a mess and her pajamas were all wrinkled, I laughed at her presence. Turning she smiled and held up her arms, "What? You don't approve?"

"It's not your best look."

"Get over here, daddy." Mom waved my father over to her and gave him a quick peck on the lips. They talked secretively in the kitchen, then parted from each other. Dad went over to the door and slipped on his shoes.

"I'll be back in a bit. Make sure your brother wakes up soon."

"Where're you going?" I asked as he was hafl way out of the house.

He waved good bye, "Your mom needs some pain killers. I'll be back as fast as I can."

"Bye!" My mom and I shouted simultaneously.

He left in a hurry, and mom rubbed at her still healing back. "How are you doing?" She inqured quietly.

I felt a pang in my heart for her, she didn't like to talk about the reapings because of our position, "Good. Just can't wait til they're done with."

She bobbed her head up and down slowly, and steadied herself on the table top so she could lower her body into a chair. Grunting a little in discomfort, I winced at the scene. Noticing my stare, she put her hand up, "It's getting better, really it is."

I couldn't argue with that, her back had improved. Before, she couldn't bend over to get into bed, or even straighten up to put on clothes right. Now she was kind of back to normal, and of course insisted on everything on her own. "I know."

We were less talkative then, she just looked at me from across the table as I finished my apple off. Throwing the core away, I could still feel her eyes on me. Finally, unnerved I asked if she was alright,

"No. No I'm not." I saw her eyes take on a reflective, glittering look and braced myself for tears. Instead she turned her head away; her voice came out in a ragged whisper, "Go wake up your brother, please."

Respecting her wish, I walked slowly back to our shared room. When I opened the door and saw him, he was still asleep. Moving over to his bed, I put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, "Hey. Hey, wake up!"

Andrew began to stir, and pushed me away, "Five more days," He said groggily.

I laughed, "Five days?"

The tiny boy nodded and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Shaking my head I continued, "Not today, bro. You got to get ready for the reapings."

His eyes shot open at that, and he pushed himself up tiredly, "Oh." Blinking the sleep away he threw the covers off himself, "I'll get ready then."

Nodding, I went to leave, "Make sure you put something nice on. Okay?"

He rubbed his eyes and stretched, mumbling something like 'Yep, okay.'

I went back to the kitchen and found my mom preparing a bowl of cereal. She saw me come in, and I noticed that she looked completely normal now. She had her pale blonde hair tied up into a high ponytail, and had a light blue, knee length dress on. Mom loved that dress, it was her mother's at one point. She was saving it for a baby girl, but got two boys instead. My parents had considered having another baby, but decided against it. They said they were dead set on the decision, but I think they still contemplated the idea- especially mom.

"You look pretty." I said, she turned at the sound of my voice and smiled sadly.

"Thanks. You look good too."

She put the breakfast on the table for Andrew, and I eyed it a little hungrily. At the same time though, I was too sick to bother asking for anything more than the apple.

I went to the living room and turned on the t.v. The only thing on of course was coverage over the reapings. I got a glimpse of pictures of all the tributes from each district. A few scared the shit out of me just looking at them, and others were pretty typical. None of them looked like they couldn't win the games though, except maybe one. But, he didn't look like he couldn't win the Games, more like that he didn't want to.

"Are those the tributes?" Andrew sat down beside me with his bowl of cereal, and began to consume the meal slugishly.

"Yeah."

He pointed out all the pretty girls, and I laughed at his easy going attitude. He saw the bright side to everything, even the Hunger Games. Dad got back from the store and gave mom her medicine, and went to their room to get ready, but not until after he said, 'Good morning," and kissed Andrew on the head.

You know how when you're anxious to get some place or do something, and time seems to slow down drastically? Well, it's the opposite when you don't want to do something. When you're dreading the days scheduled events and they come crashing at you like a tidal wave. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that the reapings started all to quickly. It was like I was watching my own life in fast forward.

Before we knew it, we were at the square. I was hugging my parents and crushing my little brother in a bear hug. We told each other our goodbyes, and my mother cried like she always does. Not heavy tears, but small, quiet ones. All dad could do was hold her as they watched us disappear into the crowd.

I found my spot, alongside my fellow 15 year old friends and talked to a few people I'd known from my school. Mostly I just talked to Jay though. He was my best friend in the whole world. We were kind of alike, in the sense that we weren't happy with certain qualities about ourselves. The first time I met him was when I beat the crap out of some guy that had been bullying Jay. You see, my friend had some super red hair, and had been called names most of his life for it. I'm not saying red hair is bad, but he didn't make it look as good as what other people could. Anyway, ever since that first day I got in a fight for him, I'd been fighting for him ever since. He was a scared, skinny little kid and didn't have anyone else.

"Did you see the tributes?"

I nodded and squinted up at the sun, "Yeah, they looked like a handful."

"Yeah." We were both to nervous to talk, so it ended up being a conversation of few words. There wasn't much time to converse anyway, because the Mayor was already on her way to the podieum to make her manditory speech.

Listening with boredom, she droned on and on about past rebellions, the coming about of the Hunger Games, and District Six victors. Then the escort took the stage, and was greeted with applause. Putting up a blue hand she flashed a beaming white smile, "Good aftenoon District Six! Are you ready for the 78th Hunger Games reapings to begin?" I shook my head as the crowd encouraged her little act with applause, "Lets start with the girls!"

"Maia Colt!" A girl with red hair mounted the stage and took her place next to the escort. I felt a bit of pride in the bottom of my stomach, at least she looked brave and detirmined.

"Now for the boys!"

That's when my world began to slow, and everything beyond District Six reapings faded away. She fished for a name and plucked out a tiny strip of paper. I think the whole crowd leaned forward in anticipation, "Andrew Traub!"

I choked on the air. My brother? Andrew? I jerked my head around and tried to spot him, I saw movement from the 14s section and saw his slender form weaving through the crowd. Sticking my hand in the air, I ran for him. "I volunteer! I volunteer!" I don't know why I said it twice, maybe because I was afraid they wouldn't notice me if I hadn't.

When I reached him at the front of the stage, he was crying hard. I hugged him as quickly as I could, "Don't worry," I whispered into his hair, "I'll be back."

I turned him towards the direction of his section and shoved him back that way. He stumbled towards his peers and began to sob. Trying to block out the horrible sound, I moved up the steps to stand by the escort.

"Well! Who are you, may I ask?"

She put the microphone up to my quivering lips, "My name is Erik Traub, Andrew is my little brother."

"Oh! Well, there's nothing wrong with a little sibiling rivalry now is there?"

I raised my brows at her, and cursed the woman inside my head. Returning her attention to the cameras she flashed another brilliant smile, "May I present your tributes for District Six!" She held up our hands and practically jerked my shoulder out of its socket. From the corner of my eye I saw Maia rip her limb free of the escorts grip and almost hiss at her.

The escort pretended not to notice, let go of me, and took a step back so I could shake hands with my district partner. The red head stuck out her hand obediently, and I took hold of it. I tried to shake her hand in a way that told her I meant business, but I think it came out more like a challenge. Crap, that's not what I meant. Maia didn't seem to mind, though. Looking into her face I saw she had a bit of a lazy eye._ Hmm, that's kind of unnerving,_ I thought to myself.

She let go of my hand and put a her own on her hip, facing away from the crowd stubbornly. I turned towards them and offered a small smile, waving with little courage. If I was going to be in these Games, I was going to try and appeal to sponsors. They were my only chance. Let the Games begin? I had a feeling deep down that they hadn't really started yet...

**Authors note: Finally, it's done! I feel like a jerk for taking so long! Sorry about that you guys! Look at it this way though, only six reapings left! We're half way there!... Want some awesome news? We recently hit the 100th review! WOOOOOOT! You guys are so amazing, definetly the best reviewers I've ever had! Thanks for being so nice and keeping up with the story! I will get points in tomorrow! I just haven't had the time to do it lately. Thanks again! You guys are great! By the way, I didn't realize that when you do a poll you can't see who the voters are, if you voted in the poll can you tell me in a review or PM me? Sorry about that, it's the first time I've ever done a poll. Thanks again!... Ahh! I'm so excited!**


	12. District Seven: Phoebe & Forrest

_Phoebe Taylor:_

"Find anything yet?"

"Nope." I huffed and circled the clothing rack for the hundredth time. To tell you the truth, I would have been excited about taking home the most beautiful outfit I could find in my parents store absolutely free of charge, but it was for the reapings so I wasn't too cheery. Can you blame me?

"Well, I don't mean to rush you babe, but we need to find something soon. The reapings start in an hour."

Cringing I moved to a different part of the store to get away from my mother's constant nagging. She meant well, she was just nervous like me. The only difference between us was she liked to embrace her troubles. I didn't want to think about the reapings, or the Hunger Games- much less talk about them. I just wanted this day to be over with.

Sifting through the various clothing articles, I would lift one dress up, and throw it back. It was either the wrong size, color, or style. It had to be just right if I wanted it to look good on me. Not that it mattered, because most people wouldn't notice anyway. Still though, I was just as self concious about my appearance as the next girl. Even more so perhaps.

Taking a glance at my watch I grimaced. I had been here two and a half hours and hadn't found one thing I liked. Man, I needed some help.

Jogging over to the store phone, I made an 'emergency' call. The phone rang about three times before someone picked up,

"Angie here." I smiled at all the background noise. There were children screaming, a radio blaring, and the television going.

I tangled up the phone cord in my fingers anxiously, "Hey, Ang, it's Phoebe."

"Oh! Hey girlie! What ya up to?"

"I was just wondering-"

"Hey! You put that down!" At first I thought she was talking to me, turns out she wasn't. "No! No- give me that! Christ! I'm going to give you three seconds to take that out of your nose before I spank your rear so hard your grandchildren will get a bruise! One... two... yeah that's what I thought. Get outa here! _Little shit_. Ugh, gross."

Laughing I leaned against the wall, "Maybe I should call Diana or Vesta. You sound a tad bit busy."

"NO! You had better not leave me alone here with these brats! This is the worst job ever, even if they do pay me good."

"You mean taking care of your sibilings is difficult? Be grateful, most parents would never pay their oldest kid to watch their sisters and brothers."

I could hear a washer and drier begin to run from her end, "That's because I'm not a push over. They know who's boss." Angie made her voice sound deeper like her father's, "I wear the pants in this house!"

I laughed again, "Okay, so anyways, I wanted to know if you could come over to the store and help me pick out some clothes for the reapings."

"Gasp! Positively! I'll tell the parentals it's a serious wardrobe malfunction, they'll understand."

I filled with doubt, "Um, I don't know. Who else can watch the kids?"

"I'll just get Flora to do it, I'll tell her she can have half the pay or something like that."

"It'll probably be closer to 'Or something' than half, but okay. See you in fifteen?"

She made a little 'pfft' sound, "Make it ten! What the Hell? Get off the T.V!"

I chuckled, "Right. I'll be seeing ya soon."

"Bye." Then she hung up and the line went dead.

Sooner came later than I thought; it felt like I waited an hour instead of ten minutes. I wasted my time looking through some more dresses. Picking out a couple different ones, I went ahead and tried on a blue knee length dress. The skirt was flowy around the legs, and it had a bow in the back. Playing with my hair I decided that it looked better up in a bun. It only seemed to enlarge my facial features when down.

Twirling in front of the mirror I examined myself. The dress did good for my naturally larger legs, and the color complimented my light brown hair. The negatives? It didn't fit right around the middle. I was curvy, and my ribs stuck out a bit farther than normal. I frowned. It wasn't right. Did I really expect it to be?

Suddenly another face was in the mirror, and I yelped.

"Boo!" Angie snickered.

Clutching at my racing heart I wheeled around on her, "Geez! Why do you have to do that?"

She just shrugged, "I don't know."

Shaking my head at her, I lifted up my arms and spun slowly in the dress, "What do you think?

Putting a finger to her chin she inspected the garment, "Well. Nice choice in color. I definetly like the blue. The skirt looks good as well, but altogether, it's not working for me."

I nodded glumly, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

Ang went to say something when there was a horrid crashing noise from the front of the store. Jumping we both ran to see what it was. A small teenage girl with long black hair was picking up an entire rack of the floor.

Looking at Angie with my brows raised I began to laugh. She crossed her arms, "I forgot to tell you, Aura said she was coming."

Bending down, Aura began scraping clothes off the ground, "I am so sorry!"

My mother had her hands on her head- mouth gaping wide open, "Ahh, that's okay sweetie. Just- just... Phoebe is in the fitting area!"

Cringing, she handed the wad of fallen clothes to my mom and tiptoed past her towards us. Her face was bright red, and her teeth were clenched. Shaking my head I ran over to her and pulled her into the dressing rooms. Shutting the door tight, I tried not to laugh, but it was hard with Angie doubled over gasping for air, "You should see your face!"

Putting her hands on her hips, Aura pouted, "It was an accident!"

"It's okay! You guys need to help me pick out a dress. Yeah?" I said, trying to ease the tension.

Aura's head went down and she nodded sadly, Angie regained her composure and became deathly serious. "Sorry, we can't. Aura ruined them all when she stampeeded over the rack."

I narrowed my eyes at her as a warning, "Are you going to help or not?"

Angie punched Aura's arm playfully, "Come on, you know I was joking."

"What ever."

"You know I was joking!" Aura looked away stubbornly, and Angie jumped on her. Trapping her in a head lock she roughly began scratching at the top of Aura's head, "YOU KNOW I WAS JOKING!"

Laughing at them I went back into the tiny rooms to put a different dress on. This one was a dark navy blue, and it had these lacy red flowers sewed into it that seemed to swirl down the side. The skirt was flowly like the last one, but shorter. The straps connected behind the neck and showed off my narrow shoulders. I liked the cotton fabric, it was soft and moved around my body comfortably.

Stepping out of the dressing room I twirled once more for my friends. Aura made a wolf whistle, and Angie nodded approvingly. "That's the one!"

Cocking a brow I looked down at myself, "You think so? The skirt feels a little, short." Smoothing it out, I tried to pull it down a bit.

"Yeah, but it looks good on you. Besides, I've worn short, and that my friend is not short."

I couldn't help but smile at my own reflection. Aura grinned, "You'll look good for the cameras."

"Cameras." I repeated the word sadly, for a moment I had forgotten this was all for the reapings. I was foolish enough to let myself think this had been fun.

"Ah, don't worry you guys. We'll be okay."

My friends came up behind me, one standing on either side. We examined our appearace in the mirror. Three girls at a clothing store. You would think we were just having fun, on a simple sunny day, but the truth couldn't be farther from that.

"Cheer up!" Angie acted like she was punching my chin, "I bet 10 bucks that by the time this afternoon is over I bet Alexandre will be all over you."

My cheeks redened at the name of my long time crush. Of course, hoping he would notice me was wishful thinking. "Yeah right."

"No, it's true. I heard him talking to Liber the other day, and your name was mentioned." Aura winked at me.

"What?" I was a bit taken aback, and automatically assumed the worse, "I don't know. If they were talking about me, it probably wasn't anything I would have wanted to hear."

Angie rolled her eyes, "What ever. We all know that your the real attraction of this little group."

I laughed, "That's not true."

There was a knock at the door, and from the other side my mom yelled for us to wrap it up. "It's time to go!"

Putting everything back in its place, I followed my friends out into the main part of the store. We met my dad and mom out front, where they were waiting for us.

"You girls look pretty." Dad ruffled my hair like I was some four year old child. Lacing my fingers through his own, we walked hand in hand towards the square. Our family was comfortable as far as our living situation went, but we didn't have a car. Even if we did I doubt my parents would use it.

"Now, girls, it's okay to be nervous. Is there anything you want to talk about before the reapings start?"

Man, my mother really knew how to kill a mood, "Mom, I don't think any of us wants to talk about the reapings."

She huffed and put her hand on her hip, "Talking about your problems eases stress."

"It's okay Mrs. Taylor. We're not nervous." Angie smiled confidently.

"Right." Mom said dryly, "I would be if I were you. You never know what could happen."

"Mom, talking about it is almost a sure way to make it happen! It's bad luck!"

She waved my comment away, "Nonsense. There's no such thing as bad luck."

"Can we please talk about something different anyway?"

I think we still ended up discussing the reapings, but I couldn't be sure. The whole time I was in a daze. When we reached the square, it seemed like I was surrounded by a heavy fog. What if I got reaped? I didn't want to be chosen. So far I'd seen quite a few tributes that looked like they were completely capable of winning.

The entire square was overflowing with people. Even though there were only hundreds, it wouldn't be a huge exageration to say there was thousands. They were yelling, and running around. There was music blaring, and peacekeepers herding kids into their sections. To be honest, the scene made me want to vomit some.

"This would be kick ass if it was a party!" Angie looked around smiling in approval.

"Yeah, I guess it would be." Turning to my parents I hugged each of them tightly, "I love you guys."

Dad kissed the top of my head, and mom took forever to let go of me. When I was finally freed of her suffocating embrace my friends and I had to race to get good spots in the 14s section.

Standing there waiting for the mayor, Aura knotted up her hands, "Do you think one of us will get... well... you know, reaped?"

I put an arm around her shoulder, "If you want my honest opinion, No."

"You really think that? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

Shaking my head I patted her arm, "Think about it, how many girls between the years of 12 and 18 are in this square right now?"

Looking around she cocked an eyebrow, "Lots?"

I nodded, "Exactly. What are the odds one of us gets reaped?"

Angie scoffed and crossed her arms, "That's what everyone else is thinking right now."

Narrowing my eyes at her I went to make a smart remark, but she shushed me. Following her gaze I saw the mayor mount the stage. As he stood at the podieum he waited for the commotion to die down.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 78th Hunger Games reapings! If I could please have your full attetion, I will begin my speech."

We all listened to his deep, droning voice. He talked about past rebellions, mostly of the previous one started by Katniss Everdeen. The man also spoke of our past victors, many of which were standing among us today. They were all men, except for a few, and they were _huge. _Most of them had worked all their lives chopping down trees and doing extreme manual labor.

Finally, he walked off the stage, and the escort took his place. He had normal skin color, maybe too tan though. His clothes were also a bit of a down play. The only abnormality was his spiked hair; each spike looked like a tiny diamond toothpick. Weird, but actually kind of cool.

"Good afternoon District Seven! My name is Todem, and I am your escort this year. Well, I'm not going to waste anymore of your time, lets get on with the reapings, shall we?"

The crowd erupted in applause, and cheered eagerly.

Smiling he reached for the girls glass ball, "Ladies first!"

I held my breath, and waited- crossing my fingers with hope.

"Will Phoebe Taylor please come up to the stage?"

Death. That was the first thought came to mind after he said those nine little words. Balling up my fists, I began to take my first steps towards my own funeral. Blood pooled into my ears, making every sound dull. Tears gathered in my eyes, distorting my vision. My breathing became ragged and fast.

I couldn't bare the thought of looking at my friends, for fear that I would start bawling uncontrolably. Instead I held my head high, and stared straight ahead. Stumbling over my own feet, I shakily reached the steps leading up to the stage. Putting a trembling hand on the railing, I dragged my own body towards the platform. Then, I was standing next to our mentor. He smiled at the audience, waiting for something. For a volunteer. No one came to my rescue.

Sniffing discretely, I blinked away the tears that were threatening to pour down my cheeks.

"Well, congratulations, Phoebe."

Congratulations? You said that to a pregnant woman. You said that to someone who was about to get married. You said that to someone who'd just won a spelling bee. You didn't say that to someone who had just gotten reaped!

"Now for the boys!"

Boys? Well, at least there was one bright side to all this.

_Forrest Clarke:_

_"Dear Forrest,_

_Sorry I couldn't find time to see you before the reapings today. Tell Elliot I said hey. _

_-Mom"_

I scanned the letter multiple times. Was this real? Or was it some kind of joke? I felt a rush of adrenaline pound through my veins. I could call that woman so many unkind things. Never had I known such a lazy, pathetic, backstabbing person.

Crumbling up the paper in my hands, I squinted down to see that there was print on the other side of the letter. Flipping it over I saw it was a bill. It had _his_ name on it.

Ripping it to shreds I threw the note into the garbage where it belonged. Maybe the woman would find it at a dump like she did all her crappy mothering skills.

"Are you okay?"

I spun to meet a pair of glittery blue eyes. Elliot, my five year old brother, stood there rocking back and forth on his heels, forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Yeah, buddy. Just got some bad mail." I walked over to him and held out my hand, taking it journeyed back to the house.

"From who?"

Looking down at his tiny face, I couldn't bring myself to say it. "Someone."

He turned to gaze longingly at the mailbox, "Mommy?"

My jaw clenched, "Uh huh."

Moving his stare to the ground he kicked at a bottle cap in front of him, "Forrest?"

"What?"

Elliots grip around my fingers tightened, "Why doesn't mommy want us?"

"That's not how it is. It's not her that doesn't want us, it's us who don't want her."

His lower lip stuck out and he sniffled, "I want her."

Lowering myself to his level, I looked him in the eye. "You have dad and me. We love you more than she ever could. You know that." I patted his head.

"Who does she have?"

Narrowing my brows I picked Elliot up off the ground and put him on my shoulders. "No one."

The truth was, she did in fact have someone. That other man. I can't remember when it started, just how. My dad would come home late from work, all tired. He would lay down, and sleep- and that was all he did. Work and Sleep. Soon she got bored with him. When he wasn't asleep, she tried to start fights with him over nothing. He would leave a sock on the floor and she would blow up at him.

Not too long after that, she began going out. Sometimes she would be gone for days at a time. I tried not to notice, and so did dad. When she'd come back she'd look and act differently. Before all this, she yelled at my father every chance she got, but things started to change. He was lucky if he could get her to look at him, much less talk to him.

To make a long story short, she was cheating on him. Know what the sad thing is? He didn't care, he wanted her gone. At first, I didn't understand. I was to young to get the situation, I thought that maybe she was working. As the years passed, she would disapear over longer intervals of time, until we just never saw her again. Wait, scratch that. We saw her a couple more times after that.

Once we saw her when she was pregnant. She sporting a nine month baby belly in the market. Dad asked who's it was. She actually had the nerve to tell him the baby was his. The woman thought we were that stupid. Can you believe it?

Anyway, dad just snorted and tried to walk off. She made a big deal out of the issue right there in the market. She had everyone in the freaking district thinking that baby was his by the end of the day. He just walked away from her, and laid low for a while. I was foolish enough to be mad at him for not excepting her apology. After explaining everthing to me, multiple times, I began to understand the things she had done wrong. I realized she was the bad guy, not my dad.

Finally, she has the baby. So what does she do, exactly twenty hours after giving birth to it? She shows up at our door. The idiot was standing in the middle of a blizzard, carrying a newborn infant. Dad couldn't exactly tell her, "Go away!", could he? So he lets her in. I ran to my room to avoid the woman that was supposed to be my mother. I went to sleep that night crying. The next morning I woke up at three a.m. to a loud screaming noise just outside the house.

Throwing the door open I looked around listened for the sound. It was muffled, but still very audible. I followed the yelling until I reached, and you're not going to believe this, the trash can. Opening the lid, I yelped and jumped back when I laid my eyes upon a tiny, flailing creature. Venturing forward once more, I examined the small person. My mouth dropped to the ground when I figured out what it was. My mothers baby boy.

Reaching into the garbage, I gently pulled him out. I remember how cold he was, his lips were blue. Hell, I was freezing and I was much bigger. Tucking him into my shirt, I stumbled back to the house. Dad was just getting ready to leave when I chased him down. He was speechless when I showed him the baby. Then he got pissed. I'd never seen my dad so angry before. He literally screamed and started throwing things. He yelled words I'd never heard him say in my life, and called my mother things that would make me flinch even now.

In the end, I wanted him. I can't tell you why; I just did. It felt like the right thing to do, I thought he was a gift sent to me from some place higher up. Dad accepted Elliot, but never forgave my mother. Elliot hasn't ever seen her.

I suppose that's my life story. Nothing spectacular. The only thing special in my life is my little brother.

Back in the house, I put Elliot down, and watched him as he played with his favorite teddy bear. The world was a cheerful and happy place in his eyes. It made me smile someimes. He would laugh at something so small, and then keep laughing. It was his favorite thing to do.

For some reason, I thought of the reapings just then. One more year was all I had left. I hated our governement with a burning passion. They were sick, twisted, sons of bitches.

"Why are you dressed nice?"

I grinned at Elliot, "I'm going to a party."

He smiled, "Can I go too?"

"Well, you'll be there, but not with me."

Elliot frowned, "Why not?"

Rubbing my hands together I moved to sit with him on the floor. "Well, I don't really know how to explain it."

"Explain what?" His eyes had widened expectantly.

"Uh," I rubbed my forehead, "You wont be with me, because you're not old enough yet."

His lower lip popped out, "That's not fair, I want to go."

"No!" I said it a little to firmly. Feeling bad for scaring him, I patted his arm, "I mean, no you don't want to go."

"It's bad?"

Nodding sadly I hugged him, kissing the top of his head I tried not to think about the coming afternoon, "Yeah, yeah it's very bad."

What if I got reaped? What would happen to Elliot? Sure, he had dad, but my father worked all the time. Who would watch him? Shaking my head I released Elliot and went into the kitchen to fix him some lunch before we left. I heard a shower start in my dad's room, he was finally awake. I didn't blame him for sleeping so much, he worked all the time. We may have been kind of poor, but I was still proud of my father. He was the hardest working man I knew, and he was morally strong. How many guys do you know who would raise the son of another man like he was his own boy? Even though I loved my father, our relationship had been awkward. He tried to talk to me and give me things, but I still felt a huge gap between us. It was like he was my roommate, not my dad. I think part of the reason why we weren't close was because we were too alike. In personality we were practically a mirror image of each other. Even physically we were the same. Both of us were six feet tall, we had the same mahogany eyes, the same dense curly hair. We even walked with a slight hunch in our backs.

Then, maybe that wasn't it. I wasn't good at making friends either. But not because I was incapable of it, because I simply saw no use in it. I had everything I needed. The only person I really considered a true friend was my little brother. At least, I didn't talk to anyone else but him. I'd give my life for that little boy.

I set a plate of food down on the table and told Elliot to eat up. Pouring myself a glass of water I sat across from him. Dad came into the kitchen, with his hair dripping wet, and chugged down a cup of weak coffee.

"How ya feeling tiger?" Ruffling Elliot's hair, dad took a seat next to him.

"Good!" Elliot smiled and revealed a mouth full of chewed up sandwich.

My dad laughed and turned his attention to me, "Ready?"

I nodded and picked at the old wooden table top. From the corner of my eye I saw him squirm in his seat,

"Well, you look good."

"Thanks."

And that was the extent of our conversation. Amazingly, it was the same way ever year; _the exact same way_.

Collecting ourselves we left the house and began walking towards the square. Elliot rode atop my shoulders, his head rested on mine. It was a quiet day, the usual ringing of chain saws and thundering sound of lumber mills running had ceased for the day. How could they really expect us to celebrate all this? Who would want to?

As we neared the reapings the air filled with unatural smells, some good, others bad. People were yelling, and hugging, and crying. Shaking hands with my dad, he smiled sadly. "Good luck, son."

I took Elliot off my shoulders and lowered him gently to the gound. His eyes were sad, but not for the right reasons. He wanted to go with me. How was I supposed to tell him that this 'party', was actually a reaping- that two poor kids were going to be sent to their deaths?

Rubbing the top of his head, I hugged him close to me. "Be good buddy. I'll see you again in a little bit."

His own tiny arms wrapped around me, "Okay."

Sqeezing him one final time, I let go. Turning away from him is the hardest thing I've ever done. He watches me as I weave through the crowd of people to the 17s section, and looks for me even after I've disappeared from sight. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. If it were me, I'd be watching for him too.

Standing amongst my fellow peers, this is the only time we are all considered truly equal. All the petty issues teenagers seem to always have are cast aside. We are all scared, and nervous. It wouldn't make you any more of a coward to say you wanted to hurl, because everyone knows the person next to you is thinking the same thing.

Our mayor begins and ends his speech quickly, or maybe not quickly. I couldn't tell you whether time was moving too fast or not fast enough.

Anyway, the escort takes the stage with pride. He strides across there like he owns the place, like he was born on it. Maybe he was.

"Good afternoon District Seven! My name is Todem, and I am your escort this year. Well, I'm not going to waste anymore of your time. Lets get on with the reapings, shall we?"

The crowd roared with excitement, and I just grimaced. He reached for the girls reaping ball and pulled out a name.

"Will Phoebe Taylor please come up to the stage?"

A girl of about 14 takes her place next to Todem. She looks as scared as ever, but at least she's holding it together. Not many tributes can. No one volunteers for her. Poor girl.

"Congratulations."

Idiot. She obviously doesn't want to be up there.

"Gentlemen next!"

Reaching into the boys glass ball he pulls out a slip of paper. We held our breathe. He read the slip without saying anything. He looked up at the crowd. He leaned into the mic. He said two words that stopped my heart.

"Forrest Clarke."

What. The. Hell.

I wanted to scream. How could they do this to me? Didn't they know I had a little brother to protect? No, they didn't. The Capitol didn't care. They would have sent him with me if they could have, if it meant they would get a little more entertainment out of it. Straightening myself for the first time, I advanced slowly towards the stage. The crowd parted for me, and it seemed like they were all looking at me with hope. Yeah, I was big. I had broad shoulders, and I was tall. Usually I intimidated people, now they were thinking I'd have a chance at winning.

What they didn't know was size didn't mean a thing in the Hunger Games. Not a damn thing.

_Look tough for Elliot._

Putting on a brave face, I mounted the stage with courage. I took my place next to the escort and crossed my arms over my chest. Todem smiled, like he'd just gotten a present.

"District Seven! These are your tributes this year!"

He stepped back and the audience cheered with pride. I turned to Phoebe to shake her. Oddly, I want to chuckle. The look of terror on her face stands out like sore thumb. She doesn't have to be afraid, I've never hurt anyone in my life. But, I almost don't want her to know that. I don't want anyone to think I'm weak. If they do, I have no chance at getting a sponsor. That means my chances at getting back home to Elliot would go from slim to none.

Taking her small hand in my own, I shake it once, then turn away. I don't make eye contact with her- I don't want to give anything away. Turning to the crowd I cross my arms again and look for Elliot.

I don't care about my district partner, or the crowd, all I care about is Elliot. I can't find him. Casting my eyes down I follow a peacekeeper off the stage to the justice building.

**Authors Note: There it is my friends! Sorry this one took so long to get published. My chapters are each over 5,000 words, so they take a little more thought and time than what most do, and I've been kind of busy. Thank you guys for following the story and reviewing so much! I'm loving these characters! By the way, I didn't mention any of the already reaped/volunteered tributes in this chapter (sorry about that). I didn't realize that until just now, so I'll make sure and mention them in the next chapter. Here's an opportunity for more points- Mutt ideas. If you can think of any good ones I might use them in the story. It's worth 10 points, so let me know what your thinking about in a review! Thanks, and talk at ya later! P.s. I hope to have District 8 reapings up by the day after tomorrow. So we'll see how that goes ;).**


	13. Sorry For the Wait

Sorry it's taking so long!

My horse cut her hind leg to the bone and things have been crazy! I thought it was broken at first and we're still not sure if it's going to be okay. There a huge pocket of blood, skin, and pus hanging off of it. I'm sure she cut through some ligaments (which means she'll need at least six months to heal). I don't think we're going to have to put her down, but I don't know if I can ever rodeo/barrel race on her again (which sucks because she can run like Man O War). She's putting her weight on it, and although she has a slight limp she hasn't fallen or gone down on her rear. She's still acting like her mean old self to the other horses, so I guess that's a good thing. As if her injury's not enough she could also be pregnant! There's a stud in the pasture behind ours and he fought with our old gelding (who ended up cutting his nose really really bad) and he was able to get together with my mare over the last few days. Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know why I haven't updated. I've been tending to wounds and crying (I thought my mare was going to die and might have got a little emotional). It's been keeping me awake most of the past two nights and I'm just not really in the mood for writing right now. Thanks for being patient- sorry for the wait. I'll update as soon as I can.


	14. Train Rides: Natalie and Zach

**Okay guys, here's the deal. I have had a severe case of writers block with theses reapings and I'm sorry, I just can't continue them for right now. It has nothing to do with the tributes being too boring/plain or anything like that (so don't make changes), it's just I'm getting sick writing the same damn thing over and over again, know what I mean? Plus, with school and all I've got on my plate I feel like it will be for ever before we reach the games. So this is what I'm going to do, I'm going to skip ahead to the train rides (goodbyes to families will be incorporated into the chapters as flashbacks) I think all of you are ready to get on with the games anyway, right? And I feel bad for not updating, although I seriously work on the chapter every day and only get one sentece in (see? this is a fatal disease). However, I will not give up on the reapings completely- I will go back and post the chapters, I just need to work on something different for a while, comprende? I will start the train rides where I left off on the reapings, which was with District 8, just to be fair! Thanks so much you guys, and by the way- my mare is healed. Full recovery will take six months, but I don't care- I'm glad she's okay. Thank you so much for your reviews! I am going to give everyone 10 pts for their reviews for that note on my horse! (I know I said I would only give pts for story chapies, but you guys didn't have to do that and you did anyway- thanks so much for your support and understanding!) On with the show...**

THE TRAIN RIDES

D8- Natalie Catherine McCartney

My breath frosted the window in a light fog, gently I drew pictures of random animals in the glass, watching them fade away as the train rambled on towards the Capitol. Sighing I turned my attention toward the lavishly furnished room. Even still, the breath is sucked from my chest. I had spent as much time in my own room as my patience would allow, which frankly, was very little. Journeying into the common room I found my escort sitting tiredly in a leather chair. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, grinding his teeth in agony. Not only had he been saddled with district 8, but he had gotten -not-so-great- tributes. I guess Zach and I didn't make much of an impression.

The young brunette senses my heavy glare, and jerks his head up. I grimace at all the peircings on his face. It hurts just to look at them. Chains criss cross over his nose, and a string is laced up either side of his neck, stopping just below his ears. It's disgusting. Automatically I wish I was back home with normal people, playing my guitar with my band. The thought of my friends beckons tears, roughly I choke them back down.

Forcing a small smile, I sit down across from him.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I shake my head, "No. I don't like being alone."

He nods and seems to think, "Well, I've been thinking." _Looks like we're done with small talk_. "You've got great looks, and you're artistically talented. We should definetly play off of those qualities. I've seen lots of tributes earn sponsors using simple attributes like that. I want you to practice your charm. Mkay? I think that'll help as well. Maybe we should give you a tatoo or peircing. Make you look a little more bad ass, hm?"

Visibly I flinch, and my head shakes on its own. No way am I going to try and resemble any capitolite by marring my body in such a way.

"Ha! Good looks and dyed skin isn't gona help her win the games." I jerk my head around and choke on my own words at the sight of my mentor, Clover. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall, "Want to make her look like a target?"

Grendel, our escort, rolls his eyes and looks at me sadly, "Clover doesn't beleive in sponsors."

"Damn right I don't!" She crosses the threshold with conviction, and in a flash she's leaning over me, "You think that they matter when it comes down to some bloodthirsty tribute pointing the tip of their sword here." She jabs a bony finger into the base of my throat, making me retreat.

I shake my head, I think mostly I'm just trying to agree with her so she'll calm down.

She nods solemly, "Thats right. Sure, they can send you water, some food, and if you get a good enough one, maybe even a weapon. But most of that you can find in your surroundings anyway."

"Not always!" Grendel breaks in.

"I did!" She straightens her back proudly, and glares down at me, "You know why I'm your leader?"

I'm not sure whether she wants me to answer, so I just stay silent.

"Because I made it through the games without one sponsor! How many tributes do you think I killed that had those dumb asses supposedly backing them up?"

Does she want me to answer that? I stay quiet.

Turning her dark attention to Grendel, she growls menacingly, "Listen, I know you're in charge of appearance and all that jazz, but I'm going to teach her how to win. Throwing a bunch of crap on her and trying to make her look like a christmas tree will only catch the attention of the other tributes!"

Sighing in defeat he leans back against the chair and closes his eyes, "What ever. Do what you want. I don't know why I got appointed to this ridiculous district anyway."

"Ecscuse me?"

He grunts and waves off her defensive tone, an action that surprises me. "Calm down, Tyranny. There's no one here to impress with your trival displays of rage."

My mouth drops, did he really just say that to my mentor? Then the hair flies, hurridley I scramble out of the way before my head is ripped off by my half crazed mentor. I flinch as I watch her rip a chain out of Grendel's nose. A scream errupts from his chest as he flails helplessly. I don't like watching the scene- she looks like a wild jungle cat attacking a tiny bunny- but there's something about the situation I can't take my eyes off of. Then it hits me, eventually that could be me. I could be that insane predator, stalking prey and pouncing without warning. Or I could be that careless victim, the one who mouths off to the wrong person and gets the shit beat out of them. Is this what the games would look like?

I jump when I hand squeezes my shoulder and spin away from the abrupt and uninvited contact. Looking up I see a stalky middle aged man glaring at my mentor. He then looks back down at me and smiles softly,

"Don't pay any mind to them. She'll rough him up and then he'll mewl over his injuries. They do this all the time."

I simply avert my gaze and stare at nothing in particular, crossing my arms over my chest I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor.

"So you're Natalie?"

I smile up at the man and nod plaintively, he kneels down and holds out his hand, "I'm Craddle."

Taking his hand cautiously I shake it, "You're Zach's mentor?"

He nods, "Yep."

Pulling my hand back into my lap I return my attention the the fight on the other side of the room, "How long will they keep this up?"

Craddle laughs, "As long as Grendel keeps screaming."

I smile at his laugh- it soothes me. Just as he gets ready to say something Zach walks in. He is two years younger than me, making him 15 years old. I smile invitingly at my district partner, he simply looks away, pretending I don't exsist. I cock a brow at him, and take in his appearance. He's about 5"8, only two inches shorter than me, which I'm sure chaps his ass just a little bit. Despite being skinny, he seems pretty confident in himself. I find him hard to read; he could be so many different things. Somthing in me tells me he's kind of dangerous. Like he might stab me in my sleep or something. Not one to get on your bad side, that's for sure.

Looking up at him with my big puppy dog eyes I widen my smile, "Hiya Zach!"

Slowly turning his head to narrow his gaze at me he steps away like I might be carrying a disease. He says nothing in return, just moves two fingers in not even a halfhearted wave.

Frowning slightly, Craddle stands and offers me his hand, I take it and he hauls me off my feet.

"Thank you." His grin makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, "Uh huh."

I smooth out my reaping outfit and reajust things here and there. Damn I look good! At least that's one thing that turned out to be not so bad today. In all honesty it upsets me a tiny bit that Zach doesn't pay the least bit of attention to me. I am in NO WAY a brat! It just hurts a little when you're practically looking your best and the only boy your age within a hundred mile radius wont give you the time of day. I mean come on! I'm wearing tight black skinny jeans, black platform ankle boots (which lookd incredibly cute on me), a tight form fitting leather vest, and a vintage hankerchief around my neck that I knotted at the side. I look like I came out of a magazine! Oh well, I didn't need his approval.

Swaying my hips slightly I walk away from the both of them and plop myself down on a deep couch. Humming a tune I drum my fingers against my thighs and pretend I'm playing the drums. Closing my eyes I envision myself back home, playing my guitar with my friends, singing at the top of my lungs and head banging til my brain couldn't take it any longer. I sigh at the image, and once more take a glance at my own crazy mentor. Clover has relinquished her death grip on our escort and is now marching towards me. Hurridly I scoot over to make room for her. Turning on her heel she drops down a little tiredly next to me.

"What we really need to figure out is how we're going to win these games. Agreed?"

I nod, just to satisfy her.

"What can you do?"

Gulping I look at Zach and Craddle, this time my district partner is actually paying attention. Only because we're getting ready to talk about my strengths and weaknesses. I scratch the back of my neck nervously. Clover follows my gaze and clenches her fists defensively, "Hey! We're trying to discuss something over here! Mind not eaves dropping so blantantly right in front of us?"

Zach raises his brows and seems to back off a little, and Craddle steers them both into another room. I don't want them to go and leave me here with her. I might not have a face when she's done with me. This reminds me of something, looking over at Grendel I grimace at his hunched form. He's back in his chair, only this time he doesn't seem to have as many peircings.

A hand snaps in front of my face, and I jerk back. Clover is looking at me expectantly, "Well, what can you do you idiot?"

My mouth drops slightly at the name calling, but I soon recover. Arranging my face so that it's content looking I cross my legs and count on my fingers my many skills, "I play guitar, drums, trumpet, piano, the sax, I can sing, I can dance, I'm a vegan, I-"

"What the fu*? How is that a talent?"

I practically jump out of my skin at her sudden outburst, "I-"

"How the hell are any of those talents? What do you do all day? Sit in a garage and play music?"

"Well," I blink a couple of times, "Yeah, pretty much."

Shrinking away from her I smile not so convincingly, she looks like she's ready to explode. Like she wants to hit me... or choke me.

Taking a deep breath she moves her hands up and down, "What I mean is," She says through clenched teeth, "What can you do? What can you do that will help you not only win but stay ALIVE?"

He voice rises several notches toward the end of her question.

Without thinking I say, "I know a lot about plants and animals!"

She gets ready to yell agian and I brace myself, but the yelling and name calling doesn't come. She actually looks a little satisfied, "Really? Good. We're finally getting some where. It's good to know what you can do with your surroudings. Like I said, you can't count on sponsors."

Sighing I knot my hands up and look down at my feet. This is going to be a long ride- and I'm not just talking about the train.

**Zach Crado**

Crossing my arms I pace the tiny living room. I can feel the train moving quickle beneath my feet, the thuding of the wheels jolts us around. Pinching the bridge of my nose I walk to a window and lean my forehead against the cool glass. In all honesty, my district partner is a bit of a ... distraction. I mean, that type of girl really isn't my style, but still, there's no denying she's going to have a lot of people drooling over her during the games- in and out of the arena.

"We've got a pretty good team this year my boy."

I keep my back to craddle and continue resting against the window. "Yay. I'll try to contain my joy."

"Please do, we wouldn't want anyone to think your capable of feeling such things."

I turn to glare at him, "I just got reaped, okay? Give me a break."

Craddle rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, and my mother and father died when I was ten. Life isn't fair. You can't change the past, so don't waste your time wallowing over it. Focus on your future, that," He points at me sternly, "You can change."

I snort, "Really?"

"That attitude is going to get you killed."

I stroll away from him and the window to sit down in an annoyingly soft chair, "No it wont."

"Sure tell me what I don't know."

"I don't plan on dying."

He claps his hands in approval, an action that somehow unnerves me. "There it is." He begins to talk excitedly, "Confidence is key. You've got to be confident. You can not win without it. Another thing- you can't hesitate do you understand?"

I consider paying attention to him, I mean after all, he did win the games, so he's got to know what he's talking about, right? Craddle squats down in front of me, "Strengths, weaknesses. Forget them!"

My eyes widen at that statement, "Huh?"

He smiles cunningly, "That's why so many people lose! They're so busy focusing on themselves that they don't think about their opponent! Study your enemy. You already know what your good at. You don't have to remind you or anyone else. And when it comes down to the training, watch the others. Do you really think a few days in training is really going to help what skills you already have." He seems to pause, "Unless you don't have any experience with a weapon. You do though, don't you?"

I nod, "A bow."

"Ah, we have a little hunter on our hands do we?"

I'm suprised at his assumption. Of course he is correct, my family was poor, so I was forced to hunt for our food. I rearrange myself in my seat uncomfortably. I don't like that he can figure out things about me without even trying, was I that obvious?

"Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone."

I glare at him in warning, I don't like jokes.

"I want you to keep that."

"Keep what?" I snarl.

"Your whole, back off aura. It'll intimidate people. But, remember, you can't be mean to your allies. You WILL get yourself killed. Some of those kids will go crazy with the idea of revenge. It will be what fuels them. You don't want to be that kind of target."

I cock a brow, "Do I want to be any kind of target?"

Craddle smiles, "Oh yes."

Frowning I look away from him, "What do you mean?"

"That girl, Natalie, she was eyeing you- I could see it."

My eyes flash dangerously, and I jump to my feet, "There is absolutely no way in Hell I'm doing that stupid ass love bit with my district partner!"

He holds his hands up in defense, "I'm not talking about that you ditz." He stands to his full height (which is quiet a sight) and looks down on me pointedly. "And don't raise your voice like that with me. I've given you some leash because we just got done with the reapings- the sass ends here! Am I clear?"

It is now that I see how he truly won the games. The guy is scary as shit. I litterly fall back into the chair, but I don't give him the benefit of seeing fear. Instead I cross my arms and look away, "Fine."

He inhales deeply, "Now, what I was talking about before you so rudely interrupted me- I want you to gain the trust of some of those girls. It doesn't have to be Natatlie. It can be anyone. No offense, but teenagers are a hormonal, horny bunch of people. And those girls out there, most of them will be desperate for 'male companionship'. They're going to want someone they can trust, someone that they think will defend them. It's way better to become allies with a girl than a boy. With a boy, there'll be competition, with a girl, there'll be trust."

I furrow my brow, "So do you think I should try to... talk to Natalie?"

He shrugs, "Maybe. Like I said, she was eyeing you. But it didn't seem very real to me. She might have just been assessing you."

"So what happens after I 'befriend' them? I kill them in their sleep?"

"Perhaps."

His answer startles me, "What? Really."

"Yes. This brings about another thing. If there's a young kid out there, make them your ally. They'll want a protector. You can get them to do the dirty work. Collect food, spy, get weapons. If you gain their trust they'll do anything for you, they'll be too afraid that you'll leave them not to do what you say."

I lean back, "Okay, say all this is wrong. Say there's not one girl out there who wants a 'protector'. What then?"

Craddle tilted his head, "Trust me, there'll be a girl. That Natalie is very trusting. She doesn't even know me and she was smiling and let me shake her hand. That is a sign of extreme of trust."

I huffed, "So I guess I'll go talk to Natalie." I winced. The thought made my stomach churn. She seemed so damn happy.

"It's a good idea. You need to get to know her anyway. That's one person down, 22 to go."

I get up to go talk to my partner, when I thought comes to me, "So, If it comes down to it, should I make a kid my ally, or a girl?"

Craddle situates himself in my seat and props his feet up on a mahogany coffee table. He thinks for a moment, and smiles, "A kid."

"Really? After all that talk about girls?" I want to rip his throat out for wasting my time!

He just shrugs, "Kids are less complicated."

**A moment between district partners**

Natalie-

I sit across from Zach, watching him carefully. He didn't say one word throughout dinner. (Which, by the way, was indescribable) Once our mentors left he seemed to relax some. Grendel didn't even bother showing up for dinner. I'm not so sure he had enough jaw left to chew food.

"So-" I actually jump at his voice. It surprises me that he is the first to speak. I'm elated by the simple act though, and lean in awaiting the rest of what he has to say. I want a friend, someone to talk to.

"You're pretty tall for a girl."

He said the sentence so slow, I thought he was just going to tell me I was pretty. For a moment I just stare at him, blinking a few times, completely at loss for words. Then I laugh. I can't help it. I see him jump at my outburst, and laugh even harder.

Zach-

I get annoyed fast. What did I say that could possibly evoke such a reaction?

"What?" My voice is harsh.

Natalie calms herself, "Oh, nothing. It's just that, you know, you ignored me when I tried to be nice to you and then you say something like that!"

I cross my arms, "Sorry if I offended you." I say sarcastically.

She waves her hand, "Don't worry about it. Unless it was meant to be insulting I don't care. About my height, yeah, my dad is six foot five."

I frown, "Oh." Was I disapointed? No, but I was still upset. I didn't want what I said to be funny. "Is your mom tall too?"

I look up when I don't here some happy go lucky response. She actually looks kind of sad for once. She picks at the table cloth, "Well, she used to be."

"What does that mean? Did she shrink or something."

Natalie's expression suddenly changes, it's dark and angry, "She's dead."

I feel like smacking my head, _so much for making friends_. I pinch the bridge of my nose, "Sorry."

She smiles sadly, "It's okay, you didn't know."

Natalie-

There's an odd silence between us, until he speaks again. Only this time he doesn't sound like an ass, he sounds like a 15 year old boy.

"My mom's dead too."

I look up at him, and start to say something, but he scoots his chair back and runs out of the room before I can get it out. What 'it' was, I'm not sure.

Oh... I hate the games...

**WOOOHOOOO! I'm back baby! Tell me what you think in a review! Again, sorry about switching to train rides, but I needed a change in scenery! I'm going to count up points here soon, maybe after the reapings/train rides are done. COUNT YOUR OWN POINTS! Please! I don't want to get them wrong! Thanks! Again, sorry for switching, but I'm even more sorry for the wait! I hate myself if that makes you feel better! Feel free to flame me for it- I probably deserve it! **


	15. Train Rides: Pip and Ryan

**Okay, so Pipple is a bloodbath character, and her pov in this chapter wont be very long. Although she is quite adorable and a little sweetheart- her fate is sealed. . I know, it's sad. Another thing- I am ashamed of my latest chapter! It had so many mistakes- and I could make plenty of exscuses for it but in truth I was so excited to get it posted that I didn't bother to edit it. So does anyone want to be my beta reader? Please, if you know you aren't good at editing and your just trying to be nice don't offer (that sounds mean, I know, but I want someone who is going to catch mistakes). I type VERY fast, so I end up with a lot of flaws that I can't ever seem to find on my own. Btw- thanks for the reviews I got my little sweeties :) they make meh smile (and they give you points)! . on with the show chitlens!**

**By the way, there's a bit more cussing than usual- if you don't like it- ignore it.**

**Pipple 'Pip' Tron *Bloodbath***

The train is rambling and jerking. I hate it. I don't have... train legs. I don't think that's the right thing to call it. I glance around the dining room. My eyes flash from one person to the next. Glancing down at the food, I feel my stomach churn in protest. It's a feast; unlike anything I've ever seen (or anything I thought I could ever hope to see). Although my family wasn't dirt poor, we were by no means wealthy enough to feed ourselves like this. _My Family._ My eyes begin to burn at the thought of my parents and younger sibiling. They itch in such a way that I feel like digging them out of my skull with one of these pretty silver spoons. My body begs for tears to soothe the flames licking at my pupils. They never come. I think I cried them all out at the reapings. I blink to ease the pain.

"Are you going to eat? Looks like you've never had trouble with an appetite before."

I cringe at the insult, but it doesn't hurt too bad. Not really. I've dealt with bullies my entire life, and often my weight issue was the target. Instead of aknowledging my mentor, Regina, I ignore her. I let my head hang and daintily pick up a fork. Stabbing a peice of crisp, green letuce, I insert it into my mouth and chew on it solomnly. It's tasteless. That's odd.

The whole train ride had been like this. Simple words, a few cruel remarks. Nothing special. I expected to feel more, but I don't. I feel empty inside. It feels like I've already been killed. In truth, everyone thinks I wont make it very far. Everyone being my mentor, escort, my partner's mentor, and Ryan himself. He hasn't said as much, but I can see it in his face. He's only a year older than me, but I didn't realize it until he told me. He's very tall and has scars all over the place. The most noticable one runs through his right eyebrow. The curious side of me wants to know where and how he got it, the sensible side tells me to refrain from asking. I have a feeling opening up old wounds doesn't sit well with him.

So far he's been civil enough, but not friendly. He scares me. Or maybe it's his appearance. He has a 10 inch brown mohawk. I've never seen anything like it. Although he's very, very skinny, it looks as if he could still rip someone's throat out. The thought makes me touch my own neck protectively.

Regina has been nothing but mean from the start. When she's not talking to me, she's yelling at me. She's short, maybe 4"9, and she looks like the devil. I mean, if I had to guess what he looked like, she comes to mind. She has an ugly hair-do, it's as if someone put a bowl on her head and cut her hair going all the way around the rim. She's tan, with cruel narrowed eyes. The unusual thing about her? She's actual got a beautiful face. Delicate bone structure, full lips, hollow cheeks. It unnerves me that she tries to hide her beauty with old grubby clothes and stupid haircuts. If I was her I would flaunt looks like that.

However, I'm not pretty. Not in any way. I have acne all over my face. It's everywhere. My skin is oily, and I'm chubby. I suppose my hair is nice enough, although it's not a head turner.

"Well," I jump when Regina noisly scrapes her chair back along the floor, "This is a complete waste of my time." She swigs down a shot of vodka, and slams the glass onto the table. Looking pointedly at me she cocks a brow, "I'm going to bed. Don't come get me for anything."

"O- oh kay." I managed to stutter out the short reply before she sweeps out of the room.

Nylon, our escort sighs dramatically. Out of embarassment, I keep my eyes averted from my company.

"So, are you guys enjoying the train?"

Ryan snorts, "It's fanfuckingtastic. I've had a ball so far, and I bet it's going to get even better."

I smile lightly at his sarcastic tone. I can feel Nylons dissaproving frown, "Now, now. Lets keep that 'tude under control."

My partner arches his brow and shakes his head hopelessly. Although he doesn't like Nylon, I do. I think our mentor is nice. His appearance is jaw dropping (and not in a good way)- with no brows, and cherry red lips. He has tattoos all over him, too many to count.

"What do you think about all this Pimple?"

I almost laugh at the mispronunciation, "It's Pipple, and I pre-prefer Pip."

His forehead creases, "Oh, my bad. I thought that was what I said. Well... how do you like it so far?"

I fidget uncomfortably, "I guess it's nice."

He smiles, "I'm glad you like it. Things get even better at the capitol. It'll blow your mind."

All of a sudden Ryan bursts into a fit of laughter, "Holy shit!" He continues laughing, now doubled over, "I bet it will!"

Still laughing he gets up out of his chair and struts out of the room. I look back at Nylon is confusion, "What's up with him?"

Nylon looks down at his hands, "Uh, I didn't mean it like that."

"Mean what?..." It suddenly dawns on me- the mind blowing bit. Mind blowing= death. Capitol+ Games= death. Oh. The more I think about it the less funny it seems. I pick at the table cloth. Ceasar, Ryans mentor, chuckles, "Well this has been an interesting dinner. I hate to follow suit of those two characters, but I'm afraid it's getting late and I must retire to my own room."

He actually kind of bows. I smile at his behaviour, and he grins happily at my reaction. "Enjoy your evening, young lady. Try not to let tonight's... events- get to you."

"I wont," I say quietly, bowing my head to avoid his gaze. Goodness he was handsome! Girls from my school would swoon over a guy like him. He leaves with the grace my partner and mentor lack. Breifly I think of my old biology teacher. I remember all the popular chicks in that class that would do extra credit work to impress him. He looked just like Ceaser- platinum bonde hair and perfect skin, both are very tall and muscular. I begin to tear up thinking about how I would never get to become a teacher myself, even though that's what I wanted to be. I would never even get to become an adult.

Silently a tear escapes my left eye and slides down the side of my face. I shudder at the feeling of the cool drop against my hot cheek.

"Aw, what's wrong sweetie?"

Nylon scoots over to me and puts an arm around my shoulder. It's then that I really start to cry. He hugs me and I cry into his shirt.

"It's going to be fine. I'm sure you'll do great in the games!" He tries to sound cheerful, but I can hear the doubt in his voice. He babbles on and on about how I have a chance, but I don't listen. I just cry. And I keep crying... for pretty much the rest of the night.

**Ryan Perry**

Man this thing is moving so fast. I've never been on anything like it. Why do we need to be at the Capitol so damn quickly? Are they that eager to end our lives? Watching the trees whiz by my thoughts go back to today's reapings. I think about my mom and sister. They were crying hard, I hadn't ever seen them so sad. I can't mourn over the past though, I have to stay focused.

I look up into the black sky and breath in the bitter, smoke filled air, it's freezing out here, but I needed to get away from them. I laugh at the image of all of us sitting at dinner. We've got to be the oddest bunch in this year's games- each of us are completely different from the next person. My mentor, Ceaser, seems nice enough. He smiles a lot, and acts like he's some kind of rich gentleman- which I suppose he is now. Ceaser has done nothing but be polite and curteous. I narrow my eyes a little. How could he have won the games with that attitude?

I'm not complaining though. At least I didn't get Regina for a mentor. She seems like a mega bitch. In truth I feel sorry for my partner, Pip. She was part of the reason why I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I hated looking at her. She reminded me so much of my little sister. I mean, they didn't look anything alike, but they had the same personalities. Neither liked to talk much, and they were both shy and scared around other people. I rub my face with both my hands. I couldn't imagine killing her. I guess if it came down to me or her (which was highly unlikely) I wouldn't sacrifice myself- but still- I would feel kind of bad about her death.

She wont last long though, not at all. And I'm not being mean- that's just simply the way it is. I have a bad feeling about her...

"What are you doing out here?"

Abrubtly I turn around and expect to come face to face with a peacekeeper. I'm not supposed to be on the back of the train. I could 'hurt' myself. Instead I see Ceaser, sighing a little in relief I lean against the railing.

"Could ask you the same question I suppose. I thought you went to bed."

He walks over to me and stands off to the side. I study him intently as he stares off into the distance. Slowly he rubs the back of his neck, and I can tell he wants to say something.

I give into temptation, "What?"

He looks at me and then away again, "Nothing. Just that little girl in there."

"Oh." I glance at the door and think about escaping back into the train. I don't want to talk to him about it- about her.

"Listen, I know you don't want to talk about her," _Damn, he's right on the money_, "But I just wanted to tell you in case you had other plans."

He stopped, and I awaited the rest of what he had to say. When he didn't speak I rolled my eyes; so he was one of those people. He was going to make me fish for answers. Well he was in for dissappointment- I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Ceaser laughed lightly, "I don't want you to go anywhere near her. Don't look at her. Don't talk to her."

I cock a brow, "Why not?"

He stares into my face, "Because she's going to get to you. She's little, she's scared, and she's got it in her head that she's going to die."

I nod, and cross my arms over my chest, "Don't mean to burst your bubble cheif, but she probably is."

Looking down at the tracks he interlaces his fingers, "Oh, I know she will. She'll die at the Cornicopia."

"Okay. That still doesn't answer my question. And how do you know she'll die then? She could manage to escape."

"No she wont- she'll freeze. She'll be too scared to move. And that's why I don't want you to make her your ally. Okay? If you two become friends, she'll end up getting you killed. You'll feel the need to protect her and you wont pay enough attention to yourself."

I cut him off then, "I wasn't planning on making her my ally."

He seems surprised at that comment, "I thought you had a little sister?"

I shrug, "Yeah, so."

"Well, don't you see some kind of resemblance? Some similarity?"

Again, I nod, "Yep."

"And you don't feel the need or desire to protect her?"

I shake my head and press my lips into a thin line. He's stunned for a moment, then he laughs and slaps my back. The action throws me forward, and I almost lose my balance. "Well holy Hell, Son- you just might make it."

I smirk, "I can't believe you ever doubted me."

He takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, it's just these last couple of years a lot of my tributes have been that kind of fighter. A defender, not an offender."

I nod, "I know. I watched them during the games."

"You did?" Again, I note the surprise. "Why did you watch the games?"

I guess I gave him a funny look because he put his hands up in defense, "Just curious. You don't look like the violent type to me."

I laugh, I knew some kids at my school that would completely disagree with that statement. "Look, I may not be the strongest guy, but I did graduate in the top 99% of my class. I'm no idiot. I don't like the games, but there's no use in pretending they're not there. I knew if I ever got picked I should have an idea of what I'm going up against." I shake my head and turn around, leaning over the railing like Ceaser."That's why no one from the lower districts ever make it. We like to pretend that they don't exist. Most parents don't bother sending their kids off to train. Even if they can't afford a special weapons trainer, they should compete in athletics or do something! Hell anything helps, as long as they remain active. But no- it's the same every year. We kiss our kids goodbye, and send 'em off knowing they'll get it the worst. We haven't mangaged to learn a single thing from the upper districts. They keep winning, and we keep losing. You'd think someone would have figured out the x factors by now and come up with a better way for us to survive in theses games."

Ceaser scratches his chin and nods in agreement, "Yep. That's pretty much how it goes."

It's then that I truly look at him for the first time. He's tall, about my height, 6"3. The only difference is he has a huge amount of muscle mass. I mean this guy is a giant compared to me.

"I'm guessing you won using brute strength, huh?"

He laughs, "Actually, we're not so different you and I."

I snort, "Really?"

"I graduated at the top of my class too. I got an award from the mayor. The highest IQ in the last ten years. They used to do that award every decade. I don't know if they do that anymore. I was probably sixteen at the time. It was a while back."

"You're kidding me?" I cock a brow at him. "Really?"

He laughs again, "Yep. I was a smart kid."

"And that's how you won? Using brains and not brawn?"

"Not exactly, it was more like a combination of both." I sigh, some guys just have it all I guess. "Listen, if you do what I say, and I mean everything I tell you to- I garuntee that you'll make it."

"All the way through?" I actually feel a spark of hope inside me, but it fades when he winces.

"Well, you are your own person. When it comes down to it there's going to be things that you're going to want to do your own way. But, yes. I believe you could make it."

I fold my hands together on top of the railing and rest my forehead on them. "Great. I could make it."

He pats my back, "Don't worry about it. That's another thing. You want to have a stratedgy, but for the most part just take everything in stride. Do you know what I mean? Try not to over think too much. Don't make it any harder than it has to be."

"So, how has it affected you? The games I mean. Just out of curiosity."

He frowns and takes his hand off my back, "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it. About the people I've killed. But look at it this way- we're all going to die someday, right?"

I nod, and he continues, "Well, it's easier for poor people to understand, but why not die for something that could put your family in a comfortable living situation? Don't think about the games like your trying to fight for you. Think about it like you're fighting for your family. Think about that big house and those three square meals a day. Never having to worry about your mom or sister going hungry ever again. Do that, and it'll make you _have_ to win- not just _want_ to win."

That made sense I suppose. All of a sudden I was attacked by a vicious yawn. After stretching my mentor smiled, "You best get some sleep. We'll be at the Capitol by tomorrow."

"Aw. Can't we get there any sooner?" I whine sarcastically.

Ceaser chuckles at my dark humor, "Goodnight."

I smirk and saunter off, back into the warm train- I have to bend down so my hair doesn't scrape the top of the door.

**A moment between tributes:**

Pip:

It's all I can do to keep from jumping out of my skin when Ryan opens the door and nearly runs over me. I couldn't help it, when I had heard my name I just had to listen. Now I wish I hadn't.

"Hey, watch it!"

I flinch at the tone he uses, and nearly crumble under his gaze.

"Were you listening to our conversation?" He demands it in such a way that I answer him even though I know he has already guessed the answer.

"No."

He cocks a brow, "Really?"

I nod and he scowls, "What ever, I don't care. What ever you happened to hear is your own fault.

I nod helplessly.

Rayan:

Dammit! She just looks so damn small. I hate being mean to her. I don't really like people in general, but I can't stand little kids. You can't stay mad at them over anything. I watch her suspiciously, expecting her to break out in tears, and make me feel guilty. Instead she simply stands there with her head bowed low. Shit balls. That makes me feel worse.

Feeling like a complete asshole I look back at the door and then down at her. I don't want Ceaser to catch me doing this. Although he's a nice guy, I have a feeling he isn't afraid to throw a punch or two at the disobedient tribute. Leaning down a little to her level (which is actually not that far, she must look shorter cuz she's always hunched over a little) I pat her shoulder awkwardly. So what if I'm nice to her just once? It's not like she's going to live long anyway.

"Why don't you ever stick up for yourself?" She shrugs, making me frown in frustration, "So you always let people push you around like that?"

Taking half a step back she mumbles "Guess so," or something like that.

"Weeeelll," I draw out, "Next time I talk to you like that punch me in the face." This makes her look up at me in surprise, "Yeah, you're probably right. You're too short for that. I guess next time just kick me in the nads or something. Maybe the shin."

Pip:

I can't help it, I smile. "I think you'd regret that if I actually did it."

Laughing he stands up to his full height. "More than likely."

Without another word he brushes past me and dissapears down the corridor. It stuns me that he can make jokes like that, be nice, and then simply leave as if he'd been talking to a wall. Looking down at my shoes I sniffle. Right then and there I decide to get down on my knees. Folding my hands together I bow my head and close my eyes. And I pray, whispering the words lowly,

"God, if you're up there... I'm sorry." I begin to sob, "I'm sorry for what ever I've done to make you mad." The tears start to fall, I begin to stumble over my words, "I don't- don't want to die. I want to live. I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I want to believe in you. I know I'm not anything special, or that I wont ever do great things, but I'm so afraid. I need you." My breathing becomes ragged and my voice is screeching, "Please, God. I'm scared. I want my mommy. I want to go home!" I throw my head back in vain, "Please, please, please! Please take me home!"

**Authors Note: Sad! . don't let her prayers be in vain! Review my little minions! Go forth and REVIEW! **


	16. Train Rides: Laveda and Zack

**Hey you guys! If you look up an author called moon plus stars (don't capitalize the letters, but leave the spaces) she's making a syot and needs some guy tributes. Just thought I'd help her out by suggesting that you guys send some in! Thanks!**

**Laveda Sodaet (13)-**

I gawk at the buttons. There's so many! What do they all do? Naturally I must press each and every one of them out of childish curiosity. I am awed by the technology of this train. I haven't seen one thing in here that hasn't made a lasting impression on me. But this... this is something else entirely. It's a shower. I've never taken a shower before. It's always been a bath for me, and the water had to be shared between my sibilings and I. So not only was it dirty by the time I got to use it, but bone chilling cold. There's so many different sprays, scents, and temperatures. All this for one shower? Suddenly I feel anger envelope me. The capitol can create this extravagant bathing station, but can't manage to feed us a little better? They can't manage to make sure the poor have clothes, water, and decent shelter? This shower good by enough food to support my family for a _year._

Shaking I begin to strip off my reaping outfit. A simple, pale green dress. I share this with my sister as well. My twin sister. We are identical so we fit the same clothing right down to the letter. Unclipping my dark brown hair I let it fall down my back and step into the magnificent shower. I press a dark red button and a heated spray rains down on me. Two birds with one stone. I've never had a shower before- but I also haven't ever had a hot bath. I turn up the temperature as high as it will go. Scrubing my skin violently I wash the dirt of District 10 off my body. The large bathroom begins to fill with steam. I breath in the minty smell of the soap I'm using and lean into the warmth of the water.

Inhaling deeply I try to pry my thoughts away from my family. I can't help it though. They ease into my mind like a common memory. I pretend they are with me on the train. I attempt to come up with a situation where we are rich capitolites simply taking a tour of the districts. I am taking a shower after a long day of sight seeing. My sister is tempermentally rapping her knuckles against the door, demanding that I finish quickly. I hear my little brother, Darius, giggling at her image. I sense my mother's eyes roll and my father smiling fondly. Yes, we are a rich family, on our way back to a beautiful home.

My eyes shoot open viciously. No. We are not traveling to some pretty mansion tucked safely away in the Capitol. Wait, there's not even a 'we'. It's just me. I am alone. I am going to the Hunger Games. I am on my way to my death.

Momentarily I picture Rayna in my place. My sickly twin, with her poor exscuse of an immune system and her frail body. She is weak, and afraid. However, I do not blame her for her fear. I understand it to a depth most lack the ability to reach. How would she be acting if she were here instead of me? I know she was frozen in place when she got reaped. I know she started screaming when I volunteered to take her place. But, I couldn't let her go! She would have died- right off the bat.

Even if she was able to get away, she would have been prey. The kind of tribute that careers hunt just for the fun of it. The kind they would capture and torture, then kill. Now, instead of her, it was me.

Clenching my fists against the wall I grit my teeth. No. I refuse to be prey. I will not be hunted down like some animal and then be beat to death for the entertainment of an entire nation. I will try. I will not lay down and take it like a weakling. I want to live. The desire to keep my heart thumping overwhelmes me and I am soon consumed by the idea of victory. I must make it back. I can't leave Rayna alone, I am her only friend. She would be thrust into a world full of cruel and uninviting people. Although she's already in Hell, I will not let her treck through it on her own.

A rapid knock on the door tears me from my thoughts. Jerking my head up in the general direction I call towards the sound, "Yeah?"

A chirpy female tone answers, "Hurry up and get your skinny butt out here! It's time to eat Buttercup!"

I roll my eyes and sigh, "Please don't call me that!"

Burgandy, our escort, laughs, "The nicknames only get worse, trust me! And besides, after that stunt you pulled with your twin we both know that the image you need to project is a sweet innocence! They wont be able to resist you! You'll be so cute!"

I ignore the water spraying down my throat as I shout up at the showerhead, "I wont get any sponsors like that though. They'll all think I'm weak!" It's true. I don't want Panem getting the idea that I'm not even a slight threat. "No one will expect me to win."

"Oh, but Butterbuns!" I squirm at the horrendous new title. Does every name she think of have to do with margirine? "They wont think that! Besides, that's not your area to worry about. You focus on the games and we'll handle everything else!" Her voice dissappears down the corridor of the train and I know she has finally left.

I frown to myself. The whole trip the devilish woman has done nothing but pester me in ways I don't care to remember. It's like she's turned me into her own personal pet. She's played with my hair, hugged me, tried to gossip with me like she was some sort of confidant of mine. I hate it. She treats me like a little girl. The first thing the blue haired witch did was tow me back to my room to show me my new clothes. Although, in truth, I was completely dumbfounded by my wardrobe I kept the smile hidden deep inside. I didn't want her to think that she was capable of making me happy. She had mistaken my resistance for sadness. Still, I hated that the clothing appealed to me. Back home my sibilings and I were lucky to get a new shirt a few times a year, and it was considered a blessing to get boots or shoes! However, sitting there in my room is a dresser full of finely made tunics, pants, socks, and footwear. They are nothing truly awe inspiring, but they would be thought of as a luxury on my side of the district. I wish I could lean out the window and throw them all to the wind. Let people who really need them have them. Out of rebellion towards my Escort's behavior I refused the items, and kept my dress.

Sadly I turn off the shower. I raid the bathroom for my dress, but can't seem to find it. That's odd. After putting my hair up into a messy (but very clean) ponytail and wrapping a fluffy robe around myself, I journey into my room. There on the crisp covers of my bed is the green dress, and next to it a neatly folded pile of clothes. The witch managed to sneak in and take my dress while I was bathing? I had to admire her stealth. Reluctantly I throw on the new articles laid out. The outfit is midnight blue and soft as silk, there are no shoes- just slippers. I've never worn slippers before. I decide that if I make it back, they will be the first thing I buy with my victory money. It feels like I'm walking on two clouds! I curl my toes inside them and find that the insides are covered with a soft fleece. Magic.

"Well we've been waiting for you!"

As I enter the dinning car the four people seated at the table simultainiously glance up at my appearance. I find that Burgandy has saved me the only free spot at the table... right next to her. Grinding my teeth I contemplate standing. I end up sitting as far away from her as I can get without invading Zack's space.

Zack is my district partner. The boy is older than me, 17 to be exact. He has shaggy, dirty blonde hair that tends to get into his eyes- which are a feirce green streaked with bolts of copper colored brown. They are an electrifying feature, contrasting well with his tan skin. I feel plain next to him. He's strong, good looking, confident. I feel weak. He's the complete package and I am just a little extra baggage. At least he's nice. He hasn't had a bad word to say to or about me. For the most part he's kept his distance though. But, then again maybe that's me. I have managed to stay away from almost everyone tonight. Everyone except my Escort.

"Isn't she just adorable?" Burgandy pinches my cheek lightly, and I feel like hissing, "I could just wrap you up and take you home with me!"

"You are taking me home with you," I say dryly. She beams at this, and I frown. Stupid lady.

"Haha!" Morab cackles heartily, "Got you a little sass do ya?"

Narrowing my brows I place my elbows on the table and rest my chin in my hands. Morab is my mentor. He is old, maybe in his late forties. That is considered a feat in our district- if you can outlast starvation then you've been blessed by something/someone not of this world. Zack's mentor, Brindle, is perhaps a few years younger than Morab. They won the games based on pure luck. Either the other tributes somehow starved to death, or they killed each other. Both our mentors won with the same stratedgy- lay low and aim from above. Neither went out to actually 'hunt' other tributes. They merely sat by and waited. I think Morab might have made a few kills, but I know Brindle only made one. I can't help but feel slightly hopeless. Usually our tributes are skinny and have no weapons experience. Next to 11 and 12, we are the laughingstalk of the Nation. The only thing we know how to do is go hungry, and survive brutal weather without the proper protection. Maybe this will be the year that I get lucky and that's all the edge I'll need. Maybe, just maybe...

My thoughts are interrupted when a group of servants burst into the car carrying plate after plate of food. This time my body reacts before my mind can. I can't help but smile. I've never smelled something so good. I've never seen this much food. There's so many different colors, it looks like a painters palet. A beautiful work of art.

I smile at the waiters who bare the dishes, but they ignore me. This makes me wrinkle my nose in confusion. Do they think they're better than me? I say thanks to one in particular- one who happens to be filling my glass. When he does not answer I lean in a little to get a good look at his face, "I said thank you." I'm surprised when I note he seems almost my age, around 13.

He looks mortified. His pale, flawless face contorts and he shakes his head slightly from side to side. Is he saying 'no'? I feel a tug on my sleeve as he backs away, and turn to look at Burgandy.

She's shooing the boy off, and I want to smack her over the back of the head for being mean, "We don't talk to them." She says in a condesending tone, "You're not supposed to talk to them unless it's to order them to do something."

"Why not?" I demand to know the answer. That's not right, it's not human!

All of a sudden Zack breaks in, "They're traitors. They can't talk."

"Why not?" I ask a bit childishly.

He frowns as if he's about to say something bad, but Burgandy speaks up before he does, "Now, now. Let's talk about the Games. Wouldn't want to get off track would we?"

I want to ask more questions, but I refrain from it. In truth, the food distracts me so much I can't think about much else. I pile potatos, carrots, peas, odd meat dishes, and anything else that looks or smells good onto my plate. I try to remember my manners, but it's hard when all you've eaten your whole life is, well- nothing. After three main courses and dessert, my stomach feels ready to burst. I hug it dreamily, all the while wanting to hurl.

Morab sits across from me picking his teeth with a bone. "So, I want to know something before we start discussing things." This catches Zack's and my own attention, "Do you two plan on becoming allies? We need to know because if we're going to start making plans we need to have a stratedgy that requires one or two people."

I look at Zack and back at my mentor, repeating the process a couple times before I manage to spit out a sentence, "Well, we haven't really had the chance to talk about it. Neither of you had partners during the games, and you're both still here."

Brindle smiles, "I like her Morab! She's got a good eye."

My mentor nods in approval and I feel a pang of happiness at the motion. Do they think I have a chance?

"Well," Morab throws the bone down and leans back, propping his feet up, "Talk about it."

"Here?" My voice sounds a little high pitched and I blush. I don't want to talk about, about the Games. And not with Zack, and definitly not infront of my mentors and crazy escort! "Right now, I mean?"

"No, ten years from now. Of course now!" Morab seems to be losing his patience so I go ahead and comply with his request. Turning to Zack I glance at him quickly, "Uh..." I look back at my mentor and then at Zack again. "Um... you know what?" My mind begins to tumble, and I turn to yell at my own mentor, "I don't have to talk to him if I don't want to!" I throw my hand in his direction and stand up defiantly, "I don't even know him! He could be crazy for all I know!" I can feel my face heat in frustration, "I'm not going to decide this matter right now! I may be 13, but I'm not stupid! There's no way I'm going to put my life in the hands of someone I've never even talked to before!"

My breathing comes out labored and heavy from the exertion. Crossing my arms I sit back down in my chair- thouroughly satisfied with myself of course. I stare at Morab with conviction and it's then I notice he's smiling. Why? I happen to look over at Burgandy and she's got her mouth covered, but not in a way that says she's scared... more like excited. I raise my brows at the pecuilar pair when my mentally unstable Escort leaps out of her chair and wraps me in a bone crushing hug. I gasp for air as she squeezes the life out of me, and scratch at her arms desperately in attempt to push her away.

"Yay!" She squeals, "You passed!" Finally she releases me from her death grip and I scoot as far away as I can while I still have the chance, "Do you relize you're the first tribute to pass our little quiz in years?" She claps her hands happily and I furrow my brows.

"What do you mean?" I turn to Zack to see if he has any idea what they're talking about, but he just shrugs dumbly.

Brindle smiles broadly, "It means you passed. It means it's more than likely you'll make it through the Cornucopia. Which," He points a bony finger at me, "Is the hardest part."

"What did I do right?" I rub my wrists slowly, and listen to his theory.

"Lots of mentors use the test. They just don't always use the same scenarios. We asked you to do something that made you uncomfortable. We were asking you to make a decision that required thought, study, and good judgment." He takes a swig of some red juice, "You passed. You didn't make the decision because you knew that trusting a perfect stranger was a bad move. This means when you get out into the games, you wont make stupid assumptions. Hopefully you wont make any. You have good judgment."

Morab grins and holds out his hand, "Welcome to the Hunger Games, Laveda."

I take his hand and shake it firmly. Maybe I have a bigger chance than I thought I did.

"As for Zack," Brindle chuckles, "I suppose you did well too. You just didn't say anything."

"I didn't really get to," He says plainly, motioning toward me, "She exploded before I could. Wana be my body gaurd?" He asks sweetly.

My cheeks redden at the comment and I situate myself in my chair. Flipping my hair back I raise my shoulders, "I'll think about it," I say haughtily.

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. I smile at the idea of being his body gaurd. The image seems so absurd! Such a big guy needing a little girl to protect him. Of course, I knew he was joking- but still. It's a bit of a laugh.

The atmosphere becomes much more serious, "But, really. You guys need to figure that out. Sleep on it, okay?"

We agree and one by one slip away to go to bed. It is at this moment I begin to feel my age. I don't want to be alone. I leave the security of the dining room to crawl into my bed. It seems to swallow me whole. I am restless tonight. Tossing and turning. Should I become allies with Zack? Is it wise to decide now? Eventually I come to this conclusion- if I make it out of the bloodbath, I'll head straight for cover. I'm not waiting for anyone to slow me down. Then, if I think I need him, I'll search for Zack. In the mean time I'll just have to make due with my own skills. I know for sure that I wont make alliances with any careers. Maybe I wont make an alliance at all.

That night I fall into a nightmarish sleep. I am killed countless times, by people with no faces. I wake up crying- reaching for my sister because we used to share a bed. When I can't find her I bolt up and cry out her name. Where could she have gone? I don't remember our bed being so soft. Blindly I get up to search for her, but I realize she's not here. I took her place at the reapings. I am alone.

**Zack Thrasher (17)**

Tiredly I pull the blue slippers off my feet and toss them across the room. Sighing I lay back on my bed and cover my eyes with my hands. Well, today's been a blast. In case you didn't get it- that's sarcasm.

I want to melt into the covers and dissapear. Shit. I don't want to go to the Hunger Games. There's no way I'm scared, but I still don't like the idea of killing people. Maybe if I cause an idirect death it would make me feel better. Bitting my lip I close my eyes and try to envision myself in the Arena. What would it be like? Would it be mountains? Forest? A desert? I cringe at the idea of a desert. All that sand and heat. No water. It was highly ulikely that they would choose a terrain similar to the desert though. They've tried it before and too many tributes died of dehydration. There wasn't enough entertainment in it.

And the people. The tributes. What would they be like? As if on cue, it occurs to me that I have my own personal television in this room. I could watch the reapings right on my T.V. Bolting upright, I slide off the bed and open a polished cabinet directly across from me. Hanging in it is a large flat screen. It seems like I search for the start button for at least 10 minutes. Then a thought comes to me.

"Power on." I eye the screen with doubt, but soon find that my voiced command has done the trick.

"Hello, please, say a command." Says a sultry female voice.

"Play the Reapings of the 78th Hunger Games." It sound official enough to me.

The t.v. blinks and the voice comes back on, "Complying with your command. Please, standby."

I wait for a split second when an image pops up of a well dressed man sitting at a desk. He's in a bloodred vest, and has on a white undershirt. Falling back onto my bed, my mouth hangs open. That's the president. Our new president. He looks like our former leader Snow- only younger. Perhaps in his mid thirties. He has black and white hair, it reminds me of pepper. His back is straight and his shoulders are at a relaxed angle. His bony, pale hands are folded on a jet black, granite desk. The image flickers, and the rerun begins to play.

"Good evening Panem." His voice is deep, almost soothing in an eerie way, "As you probably know, the 78th Games are about to begin. We have been presented numerous well rounded tributes. You are preparing to watch the reapings of this year's games. Please pay close attention to your entertainment. For this will surely be the most interesting Hunger Games since the very 1st. A special message to Katniss Everdeen." My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It's then that I see out of the corner of my eye, Laveda has snuck into my room. I'm sure she meant to say something, but now she was entranced by the words of the president. I almost felt worried for her- like she had been put under some sort of spell. Losing interest, I moved my eyes back to the screen. "I know you are out there somewhere. You have refused to turn yourself in. Panem, has refused to turn you over. Because of you, many will suffer. You have created a rebellion that will end in blood. Not ours, and not yours. Yes, that's right, I said you will live. I want you to be alive. _I want you to see_. I want you to watch as 24 girls and boys fight to the death in theses Games. Because of you, these Games will be unlike anything the Nation has ever seen. And it will be all your fault. If you feel it is too much to bare, feel free to turn yourself in. Once you have, the games will resume to their _normal_ brutality. Thank you. That is all. May the odds be ever... in your favor."

I jerk slightly when I hear breathing next to me. Laveda is seated on the edge of the bed, gripping the covers with ferocity. "What does he mean?" She turns to look at me with wide, confused eyes.

"I- I guess he means that it'll be a year to remember."

She snorts, "Yeah, but 'normal brutality'? What's up with that? The Games can't get any worse than they are. Right? I mean, except for Quarter Quells?"

I want to tell her yes, but I can't seem to bring myself to make a promise I might not be able to keep. "I guess we'll see." I shrug and try to act like it's not a big deal. And really, I'm surprised to find I'm not too worried about it. Something in my gut tells me that it's more than I'm making it out to be though. I turn to look at the girl curiously, "What are you doing in here? Did you get lost or something?"

Her eyes narrow, "No, I did not get lost." I want to laugh at the defensive tone her voice, "I just couldn't sleep and no one was awake but you."

I cross my arms, "Well, you can't stay in here you know."

She pouts, "Can I stay with you to watch the reapings?" I frown, "Pleeeeaase?" She makes her eyes go wide and has her hands clutched together beneath her chin.

"Wow, I didn't think that worked in real life." I can't deny that face, so I let her stay. "Just for the reapings though, okay? Then you gotta get out of here!"

She scowls, and encircles her arms around her knees, "I'm not a child. You don't have to talk to me like that."

I go to argue the point when she holds up a hand to shush me. Glancing at the televison I see that I've already missed the govenors speech for district one.

Two youths are now standing on the stage clasping hands, then the big guy tribute (and I mean he is _huuuge_) pulls in the girl for a hug. It's obvious what he's playing at, and the girl doesn't seem to happy. She practically dissappears from view. Lorraine, I think that's her name, shoves him away with as much civility as she can. I'm surprised to see that she's actually got some strength because he stumbles back at least half a step before he catches his balance. Right off the bat you can tell that they'll probably have it out for each other in the Games.

"They're the usual." I smile at Laveda's monotone statement. "More than likely are all brawn and no brains."

Ooo, someone's got a bit of an ego, eh?

District Two lights up the room with a pair of two good looking tributes. The boy, Zane, seems to be masking some type of emotion. I imagine since he volunteered for someone in the audience he didn't really want to be up there. The female is pretty, with really long blonde hair. To an unobservant person she might look like an angel, but I can see that she's holding back. The question is, what? She's probably trained her whole life. I hate those kind of tributes. That's why the upper districts always win.

District Three flashes across the screen. Newton, the boy tribute is kind of tall and skinny, not resembling a tribute that could win. He seems scared shitless. Poor guy. I watch as he shakes hands with the girl. She's also attractive, with long dark hair and large, catlike eyes. She turns to wave to the crowd, but you can tell it's forced and not the usual 'Oh look at me, I'm amazing and I'm going to win' wave. I decide I like them.

Distric four comes as no surprise. Although, the girl looks upset about the situation, she does well to control her emotions. Automatically the boy reminds me of Finnick. He's confident, looks pretty well built, and has 'the look'. It'll be a cinch for him to get sponsors. I know it's not fair, but I don't like him. He's too... I don't know, maybe I'm just jealous or something stupid like that. As if on cue Laveda claps her hands together,

"Oh! He's cute!" To exaggerate her point she flies over to the screen and gets as close as she can. I roll my eyes as she drools over him. To her dismay, and my enjoyment, the image changes to D5. The boy looked, um, sick. Was that right? He looked bad. Maybe he had cancer or something. Monique- the girl- was an entirely different story. She looked like a total fake, but more than that, she looked evil. I could tell that she was another one of those tributes that spent all her time training. It wasn't often you found one of those people in any district below four, but mark my words they were there.

D6 and D7 weren't really anything unique. The same inexperienced tributes. None of them wanted to be up there. Although one boy, the one from seven, looked like he was in pretty good shape. Maybe he could hold his own in the Arena.

Then came 8 and 9. All the tributes conceal their emotions well, and put on a pretty good show for the audience. Except one girl. She's kind of chubby and looks to be about 14. She has to be practically dragged up the stairs. I grow impatient waiting for D10. Although I already know how I acted, I want to see what it looks like on television. I'm kind of nervous that I might have been a dissappointment. I can see Laveda tense as she sits crosslegged on the floor, a few feet away from me. She's waiting for the same thing.

Then, there we are. We are standing on the stage shaking hands. I'm surprised to see both of us look confident. We hide our true feelings well. I can't help but notice that I look bigger than usual, I guess it's because Laveda is so much smaller. She is smiling forecdly at the crowd and waving. She looks as sweet as they come. In fact, it wouldn't shock me if she got quite a few sponsors. I look completely hunky, and not to brag, but pretty badass. I didn't realize I had done it, but I crossed my arms and had my eyes all narrowed- it made me look kind of tough and determined.

"Aww, look at you all cocky and egotistical!" Says Laveda.

Smirking I throw a pillow at her and hit her in the back of the head, "Look who's talking. You're the one up there waving like you just won a medal."

The television screen goes blank and I fall back onto the bed, exhausted. Breathing deeply I can't seem to make my mind settle. Too much has happened today. Glancing up I see Laveda is standing in the middle of my room, unmoving. Pulling the blanket up and over my face, I cover my features.

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to leave?" I ask.

I can almost see her with her hands on her hips, standing there defiantly. Instead I feel my bed move and I peek out from under the blanket to see that she has curled herself up on the corner of my bed.

"So who do you think is going to win?"

Dropping my head back down, I snort, "Hopefully me."

"Yeah, I was kind of hoping it would be one of us too."

"That's not what I said."

She props herself up on her elbows, "Well, if you don't win then who do you hope does?"

Sighing dramatically I sit up against the backboard of my bed, "If I say you, will you leave?"

Shrugging, she grins, "Maybe."

Biting my cheek reluctantly I spit it out, "Fine. If, and that's a big 'if', I die, I hope with all my pea pickin' heart that you win! Happy?"

I thought that she would come back with something smart to say, but instead her face falls. Silently I wonder what she's thinking about. I don't like the idea of her being in the games. I wish I had gotten an rude, annoying district partner. I don't want to worry about anyone but myself, and already I'm hoping that when we get to the Games it's not me that has to kill her.

Finally she speaks, "Do you want to be allies?"

I rub my face with my hands. "I don't know, okay? I mean, no offense, but are you good at anything besides mouthing off?"

Instantly she grows angry, "I don't know! Are you good at anything besides being a cocky, egotistical jerk?"

I laugh, "Point proven."

She frowns, "Please, I'm trying to be serious."

"I know! So am I. I really don't know if I even want an ally yet. Just give me a couple of days to think about it."

We talk for a little while after that, and she soon leaves my room. I can tell that she just wants some company, but I'm honestly dog tired. Once my head hits the pillow, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Probably the best night of rest I'll get for the next few weeks.

**Please Read this message!: There you have it! Just two districts to go! I'm really enjoying these tributes! After this things might start to mix up. I probably wont do every chapter using the 2 different Povs of the district partners. It'll be kind of random after the rest of the train rides finish up. Except for the interviews of course! Everyone will go in order and get their fifteen minutes of fame (technically the interviewer only reviews for 3 mins)! If you want your tribute to say something in particular, please Pm the quote(s) to me. Oh, and label the message "Interview Quotes". The people who Pm these quotes to me will receive points. But you MUST pm it to me AND label it! Thanks yall! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. (I know the last two have had sections names "Moment between tributes" but these two talked a little more than usual so I didn't feel the need for it in this chapter). R&R!**


	17. Train Rides: Kenya and Nikolai

**Kenya Roseheart (17)**

"Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, Kenya?"

Tightening my lips together into a firm line, I look away stubbornly, "I prefer to remain silent."

Gragon sighs audibly, but I keep my gaze averted. "...Well, then are you just going to mope around the whole time?"

My eyes flash in warning, it's all I need to do to make my nerdy mentor back off. Taking half a step away from me she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. An action she seems to find great comfort in. She's done it seven times since she's been in my room. I don't like her. She's... peculiar. Too meticulous and calculating. The old lady keeps trying to figure me out- like I'm some kind of equation. I refuse to give anything away. She has nothing to offer me. I'm not stupid, I know she won the games and that she probably has quite a few helpful tips, but her... stratedgy doesn't exactly compliment my own. And besides, I have a different reason to fight.

Crossing my arms over my chest I lean back against the bedpost. Since the reapings she's been up my butt on just about everything. Asking me all sorts of questions, trying to guess what makes me tick. If there's one thing I want to train myself for, it's give nothing away. I don't want to get familiar with people, I don't want to feel tied to anyone. I smirk at the thought of the games. I can't wait to meet my fellow 'tributes'. Particularly the Careers. By the time I'm done with them no one from the upper districts will ever even _think_ about volunteering ever again.

"What are you smiling about?" Gragon looks slightly upset at the devilish grin upon my lips.

Instantly my good mood dissappears, "What's it to you? Why are you even in here? I don't want to talk to you. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."

"Really?" She lifts her chin in a moment of bravery, "I think you'll regret these decisions once you step foot in the games. It's not as easy as it looks, you can't begin to comprehend the things the Games can do to a person."

I explode at her assumption that I don't know what the Capitol is capable of, "You think I don't know what those shit heads can do to someone? I think I just might know even better than you do! You're not the only one the Games have affected! Don't try to tell me how I do or should think! I've experienced the wrath of those bastards first hand!"

"Oh, I highly doubt that." Even as she's saying this she's backing up in fear. I jump to my feet to follow her to the door. I get right in her face, and poke her in the chest,

"For your information, my brother was killed by those bloodthirsty careers! Don't try to act like you know me! You'd better watch your mouth! How the Hell did you even make it through the Games? You can't fight, you can't use weapons, you can't do anything!" Immediatly I regret saying that, it sounds childish, after all, she's still here so she got through somehow. "Just get out! Go away!"

I chase her out the door and scream after her, "And don't come back!"

As I'm yelling it just so happens that my district partner and his Mentor are walking down the hall. Both have stopped to stare at me curiously,

"What are you lookin' at?", I demand in a hostile tone.

"A little early to start the action now, don't you think?" Says Nikolai's mentor.

I grimace in anger, flip him the bird, then slam my door shut.

Ahh! An insufferable bunch of people! Why can't they just leave me alone? All I want to do is think. I just need some space. Laying the palm of my hand over my heart I can feel it thumping rapidly. Breathing deeply I try to calm myself. Once I've had a few moments to process what had just happened I slap my forehead in disgust. Dammit! I just yelled at my mentor! Of all the people that I'm supposed to respect and trust in these games I pick her to release my fury upon. Huffing I lean against the door and slide down until I hit the floor. Putting my head in my hands I contemplate my next move.

I really don't want to go appologize. I mean I really, really hate admiting when I'm in the wrong. Hell, she might not even accept my offering of peace. That would piss me off. Why the heck did I blow up like that? I guess it was the straw that broke the camels back kind of deal. Rubbing at the sore muscles in my neck, I climb to my feet and move towards the dresser. Might as well get ready for dinner, there's no way I'm going to skip a meal.

I trade my blue top and white shorts for a clean cut black shirt and a pair of matching pants that hug my legs like skinny jeans would. Kicking off my gladiator sandles I stuff my feet into a pair of fleecey shoes that have been provided for me. Wrinkling my nose in dissaproval I put my sandles back on. I don't like the feeling of fleece, it's too soft. It aggravates my skin for some reason.

There's not much left to do after I've changed, so I explore my room with vague curiosity. A few things catch my eye, like the shower and television, but other than that I'm not very impressed. Lying down on my bed I curl up on my side and decide to try and take a nap. However, too many thoughts are currently occupying my mind. Thoughts about my brother. Thoughts about the Games.

I've never once hesitated about my decision. I hate the careers. I mean, they were always evil and sadistic, but I'd never hated them as much as I did when 'it' happened. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the image. Of course, that doesn't help- the scene is inside me. Forever burned into my brain. I run the memory through my head,

_**Flashback**_

_"Oh my God. Oh my God! My baby! My baby, NO!" _

_Mom vomits. There's no time to move a bucket underneath her, or steer her to the bathroom. She hurls again and again... and for some odd reason I remember that smell better than I remember anything else about that day. My father has one hand clutching at his hair, and the other arm wound around the quivering body of my mother. He is crying. I've never seen my dad cry. It's then that I start to bawl as well. Alex is screaming. I cover my ears. I can't listen. But no, it's not her screming that bothers me, it's his. It sounds animalistic. Where is everyone? Where are the good people? Why isn't anyone trying to save him. I want to look away. I want to pretend this isn't happening. Alex yells at my father to turn off the t.v. She's begging him. I can't manage to do it, but in my mind I protest her request. I have to see. I have to know. I think, deep down, my father feels the same way. He stays in his place, sobbing over my mom, his eyes glued to the screen. I hate looking at him. I hate tears._

_Turning my attention back to the television I watch in horror as a career slices him over, and over and over. The blade is flashing silver. It's just a beam of shiny metal, moving too swiftly to follow with weak human eyes. Later I find out the attacker is using some ancient method of torture. It allows one to cut a body literally hundreds of times, inflicting intense pain, but without killing directly. Red is everywhere. I've never seen so much blood. I gag. Con is coughing now, drowning in his own life force. I can see him gurgling blood. It bubbles out of his mouth and slides down his chin. It is then that I know he will die. My brother. My best friend in the whole world. I'm yelling. Strange... I can't seem to recall what I career stops, and sneers menalcingly, then kicks Con in the chest, shoving him onto his back. He spits on my brother before he wipes off his dagger with his shirt, and moves away. Then that... that bitch, grabs Con by the chin and tilts his head back, "See ya in Hell." I can hear her even now. The way her voice is like nails on a chalk board._

_Thrusting a broken arrow shaft into his chest, Con heaves one final breath. She cackles like a witch as my sibiling dies. Murderer. Bitch. Torturers. The male career grabs the female by the elbow and drags her away from the scene. The camera focuses in on Con's body. His eyes are wide, and glassy. His clothes are all stained red and torn into rags. He lies in a sea of blood. His mouth is gaping open, wide, like a fish out of water. I clutch at the televsion, as if I can reach through and some how bring him back. Pull him into our home. _

_**End Flashback**_

Needless to say, I feel nothing. My heart does not ache. I feel no sadness. All I feel is a burning rage. A rage so powerful I worry it will burst from my chest and release some awful monster. I grit my teeth, not yet. After years of keeping all my true emotions locked away, I can finally let them loose. I crave revenge. I want to fight right now, at this very moment I want to punish someone for my brother's death- particularly the Capitol. I'll have to wait just a little while though. It's okay, I tell myself, a little more than a few days and everthing can come out.

Those careers, they have no idea what's about to hit them. They're thinking that they're all going to band together and kill all the 'weak' district tributes. They'll be expecting as much from us. Boy have they got another thing coming. They aren't the only ones that have trained. Ever since my brother was killed I started training. Mostly I just taught myself, it's not like I could afford my own personal trainer or anything. I already know what weapon I'm going for. A bow. That career whore killed my brother with an arrow, I plan on killing one of her own kind with arrows as well.

My lids become heavy. My breathing slows. Before I know it, I fall asleep.

Later, I jerk awake to a loud banging. Covering my head with a pillow, I roll over, face-down. "GO. AWAY." I yell.

The knocking stops, and I hear heavy footfalls leading away from my room. I lie there for a while, and fall in and out of sleep. I don't know how long I stayed in bed after that, maybe 20 minutes? It's at that moment I sit up in suspicion. Hmm, that's odd. If that was my mentor, she would have kept beating on the door, demanding I let her in so we could 'talk'. Then I remember screaming at her, and chasing her down the hall. There's no way that was her, even she can't forgive that quickly.

My thoughts are abrubtly interrupted when my stomach growls. Clutching at my roaring midsection I take a glance at an alarm clock beside my bed and see that it is 7:00. Oh shit. I hope I didn't miss dinner. Scrambling off the bed I bolt out of my room (without checking my appearance) and make my way to the dinning car. When I enter everyone is already seated and eating. Angrily I sit down beside Nikolai.

"Geez, thanks for telling me about dinner."

Hickle, our escort smiles brightly, "Oh, you didn't hear Nik? We sent him down to your room to tell you it was ready. He said you weren't feeling up to eating..." His gaze darts back and forth between us in anticipation, and I glare at my district patner,

"_Oh really_? That's what he said?" I cross my arms and continue staring him down with the coldest eyes I can muster.

He simply blows on a spoon full of some type of hot food and continues eating, finally after a few minutes he glances over at me, "What?" The word comes out harsh and I bristle at his hostile tone,

"You didn't say that it was dinner time!"

He smirks, "You told me to go away." I cock a brow at his funny voice, it sounds, I don't know, different. I can't exactly pinpoint the word I'm looking for, but I feel like I've heard the accent he's using in a movie or something.

Instead of arguing further I jerk a plate off of the pile of china ware in the middle of the table and pile it high with food. I can tell that they are surprised by my appitite, considering I'm a girl I must look pretty unusual consuming so much.

Shoveling the food in my mouth I disregard table manners and eat like a goat. While putting on this little show I take time to study my compainions.

There's Gragon, my mentor, a nerdy exscuse of a women that I absolutely loathe. She has frizzy yellow, blonde hair and lots of saggy skin. She looks like a crazy witch. All she's missing is a broom and pointy hat. Well, I guess she's not bad in that way. She's just too happy for my taste, always bubbly and trying to talk- it pisses me off.

Then there's Hickle. He's a sight, with his long talon like fingernails, and jagged teeth. It takes a lot to unsettle me, but looking at him makes my skin crawl. He's got silky black hair that reaches his shoulders, and I kind of want to rip it out of his scalp. I'm a girl and even my hair isn't that appealing. Oh, he also talks like a gay man. His voice is super nasal.

Across from me is Clip. Clip just so happens to be Nikolai's mentor, and I automatically envy my partner. This guy looks like he could kill someone with one swing. He's a prime example of why the lower district win every once in a great while. Sometimes we're able to produce a tribute that's big _and_ smart. Strength and brains is the deadliest combination. And looks don't hurt. Nikolai's mentor definetly has good looks on his side, with peircing blue eyes and short gold hair. Looks like he's the total package.

And finally, there's Nikolai himself. Already I can guess that he's pretty much indifferent to anyone he doesn't know. He doesn't seem to want to talk very much, which is fine by me. In fact, I remember him from school. Even though he was cold, and distant, I suppose that only made him stand out more. Most people avoided him, partly because of his attitude, but also because of what happened to his friend. If I remember correctly he was murdered. No one liked Nikolai, they believed that he could have prevented the awful fate awaiting his friend. I, personally, don't really care. I wasn't there, so I have no opinion on the matter. Shaking my head I go back to eating my food, people are such hypocrites. It's easy to point fingers at someone without taking in all the facts first.

My mind goes back to the reapings of today. I recolect how my heart pounded, how I didn't really want to be up on that stage. But, after standing there for a few moments, and letting my head clear, I thought of my brother. How his death was in vain. How he was brutally slaughtered by the career tributes. I was happy. I could finally get revenge. So what? I got reaped I year earlier than I would have liked. That didn't change anything. People were still going to die.

**Nikolai Gregorovich (17)**

Slumping down in my chair I cross my arms over my chest and attempt to appear indifferent towards my mentor. He siting across from me, hands folded in his lap, studying a sheet of paper. Looking up at me he smiles, and then returns his attention to the document in his hands.

My brows knit together in frustration, I've been sitting here for eons awaiting his attention. Is he trying to piss me off?

"So..." Finally he speaks, and I feel a little steam exit my ears," I watched you volunteer today... I can't seem to understand what would make you..." He flips the page over and reads the back, "Do such a thing... May I ask why?"

I want to leap across the room and grab hold of his throat. Would he take his eyes off the damn page for a minute and talk like a normal person? Instead I just sink farther in my seat and stare off into space, "I didn't have a reason to not volunteer."

Glancing over at him I see that he's chuckling lightly, "What?"

"Oh, nothing, just- nothing."

I roll my eyes, "Yes, I know. This is just the way I talk so you can either accept it or jump off the top of a building."

He shrugs with indifference, "I was just curious. So," Now he puts the paper down on a coffee table near his chair, "Let's go ahead and have a little chat about the Games, shall we?" I nod with a bit of interest, and he continues, "We're going to need to figure a few things out. People usually like to wait until they get to the Capitol, but talking about it now can't hurt. Besides, you volunteered, so I get the feeling discussing your predicament isn't going to open any wounds." He arches a brow in question and I shake my head, "Good. We'll go ahead and speed throught the process. When you get to the Capitol you're going to have a little time to settle down in your hotel, you're going to meet with stylists, you're going to do the Chariot Race, you'll train for a few days, you go through the training score session, and then you'll do interviews. Easy enough to get, right?"

I simply sit there and await the rest of his speech.

"You're not one for words are ya?"

Smirking I shake my head, "I suppose I'm not."

"Well, that's a good thing to have in the games. But I'm not so sure it'll work out for you in the interviews. Got a hidden talent or something that you're saving for the camera's?"

"Guess we'll find out." I shrug.

"Alright. As long as you do the real you, it should turn out well. But those are a ways off so lets get down to the nitty and gritty." He stands and begins to pace the room, "Please tell me that you have had some experience with weapons."

I frown slightly, "Not directly."

He sighs in defeat, "Have you ever done any manual labor?"

Nodding I relay the many jobs I went through in district 11.

"Good. That's good. When you get to training time, grab a weapon on the last day that seems familiar and toss it around some. See what you can do with it. Besides that I think you should try to learn skills that would suit you. Do you plan on playing on the offense?"

I can't stop myself from grinning, "What do you think?"

He laughs, "Guess that means yes. Anyways, if you attack more often than not, you need to take a camoflouge class, and a medical class. They'll have a lot available when you get there. By the way, have you watched any of the reapings yet?"

I nod. Of course I have you idiot, I'm not stupid. "Yes."

"There's a couple you need to watch out for. Obviously the careers. There's quite a few good ones this year. I'm sure they'll band together. Do you plan on making an alliance with anyone?"

"If I can find someone to trust."

He scratches his chin in deep thought, "Try to make an alliance with that Newton kid. He's real smart from what I hear. Just compensate for you weaknesses."

Instantly I reel back, "Exscuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's not the way I meant it."

"It sure as hell sounded that way you ass."

He cocks a brow at me, "Okay, I guess I deserve that."

"You guess?"

He smiles, "Anyways, what do you think about Kenya? She honestly might make a good ally as well. I know it seems kind of cliche to pair district partners in the games, but sometimes it works out pretty well. She wont slow you down, and she's a fighter, plus you guys are kind of familiar with each other. You guys might be a little too alike though. Just think abou it, okay?"

"I guess."

He claps his hands together, "Okay, next issue. Game plan. Cornucopia plan. What's the stratedgy?"

"Kill everyone."

His brows raise in unison, "Maybe. But, let's be serious. How do you want to run the cornucopia?"

I shift in my chair uncomfortably, "All I know is that I'd like a weapon from the start."

Clip nods, "The weapons are in the horn. You'd have to go an awfully long ways to get to one. By the time you get there the careers will have swarmed it." He thinks for a moment. "The only way is to jump a tribute that managed to get away with a couple of weapons, or to become a career yourself."

My head jerks up at the last comment, "I'd rather not."

"Well, you wouldn't have to be with them for long. Just long enough to grab a weapon, maybe kill one or two, and then hightail it out of there before anyone knows what's happened. They shouldn't be too modest about accepting you into their little group. You've got a good build, and you're kind of insane. I'd say you'd fit right in."

"Sounds like a plan." I like the idea of tricking those bastards.

"Glad we reached an agreement." Sitting back down across from me he picks up the paper again and studies it.

"What is that?"

Clip looks up coyly, "Just a little information on you."

Immediatly I perk up, "What kind of information?"

He ignores me and keeps reading, "Says here you're into socialism."

I snort, "Oh? You couldn't figure that out on your own?"

"You're an interesting character, ya know. I've never had a tribute quite like you. Very unique."

I press my lips into a thin line, _kiss ass._

"Well, I don't know about you. But I'm good for now. I just kind of wanted to get a better idea about what I was dealing with. Got any questions, comments, prayer requests?"

I shake my head and get up to leave, "Oh wait, I just wanted to ask, that scar. It doesn't effect you're vision does it?"

Without thinking I reach for my eye, touching the raised skin beneath it, "Nope."

He nods, "Good deal. You probably ought to get some sleep. See you in the mornin, we'll eat breakfast and by then we'll be a the Capitol."

Without acknowledging him I flee the car and head to my own room. It's nice, better than I expected. But then, I've don't really care about material things. I suppose I don't care about much of anything anymore. I can't really remember a time where anything mattered to me- anything but working.

When I enter my room all I can seem to do is stand there. This is so boring. Walking over to my bed I lay sit down and contemplate. I don't regret volunteering. Nobody in that peice of shit district wanted me there anyway. I feel myself grimace at the memory of my friend. Really the only person I ever got along with. We didn't exactly have the same beliefs, but were similar all the same. Both of us were loners, independent. We never needed anyone to take care of us, we always just did everything ourselves.

Then he was murdered. The image is almost foggy in my head because I've tried so hard to force it out of my mind. Strange, I can't even seem to remember his face very well. It's almost scary that you can be such good friends with someone, then when they're gone you can't even recall what they look like. It doesn't matter though. After that everyone hated me. Telling me that I could have stopped it, that I was there and could have helped him. Stupid bastards. Do I really look like the type of person that would just stand by while my friend was murdered?

That's when they started saying it was me who committed the crime. By then, I didn't give a damn anymore. I was never a very approachable person back then, but after the murder I guess I grew to be even more distant. I don't know why so many people complain though. As long as they leave me alone, I don't bother them. But nooo, everyone's got to be a fucking detective, a judge. So I just volunteered. Why would I stay in a place where I'm attacked everyday and not able to fight back? Most of the times the Games were viewed as a death trap, for me they were the way out. If I lose, then that's just the way it is. If I win, then I can live in victor village and everyone will finally leave me alone. Either way, I win.

**A moment between tributes:**

_Earlier that day, boarding the train_

_Kenya-_

_I'm walking away from the Justice Building. A smirk on my face. Suddenly a group of peacekeepers appears beside me and I see that they're leading Nikolai towards the train. Damn he looks batty. Looks like he's off his rocker. He's that boy with the funny accent, or at least people say he speaks in a weird voice. _

_Nikolai-_

_I feel a pair of eyes on me. Glancing off to my left I catch Kenya studying me. Kenya. The name sounds familiar, I know we go to the same school, but I don't really remember her face. Of cours I stopped going to school a long time ago. Still, there's something happened to her that made popular gossip a while back. A light bulb goes off in my head. She's the one who lost her brother in the games. Instantly I feel a little bit better about the situation, maybe she wont be a little snot nosed brat. _

_Kenya-_

_What the hell are you looking at man? Oh, well, I guess I started it, but still. I stick my tongue out at him in good humor._

_Nikolai-_

_What the fuck? Did she really just do that. I take it back. She's a complete snot. Lifting up a hand I go to flip her off when I'm pushed into the train by a peackeeper._

_"Watch it you Mother-" Then the door is slammed shut._

**Authors Note: HAHA! Yay! These two are a couple of bad asses, no? EVERYBODY, just ONE DISTRICT LEFT! YAaaaay! I'm so excited! After D12 is done things will start to be done in random points of view. I think I'm going to do anywhere from 5-10 povs a chapter, some will be short and others will be longer. To be fair I'm going to be random about which tributes get a pov. Remember the poll that i'm going to set up! Be picking out your favorite/least favorite (by which I mean they're bad people)/ and in between tributes. **


	18. Train Rides: Iris and Daryl

**Sorry, I had to repost this chapter. It was chalk full of errors! I actually felt that bad! So again, forgive me! On with the show...**

**Iris Bloom, 12**

I sigh. This is wrong, it's not going according to plan. Since I can remember I've had the next six years of my life mapped out. I would train with my mother, I would learn about plants and hunting with my father, I would volunteer, and then I would win the games. It's not about the fame, the recognition, the glory or for the bloodshed. I need the prize at the end. I need to give my family the things District 12 couldn't. A good home, plenty of food, a secure life. It's all changed now.

My plans have been derailed. No more waiting until I was 18 to volunteer. Instead I am twelve... and tiny. No one will see me as a threat. So far, I can't tell whether that's a good thing, or a bad thing. In one way, it will work well for me in the arena. I will not be targetted by and careers, and I would be easily trusted by most people. In another way, getting sponsors would be difficult, it could be hard for me to get allies, and most tributes would just see me as extra baggage.

Frowning I pick at the fabric of my pink dress. It reminds me of Violet, my twin sister. She was wearing the exact same outfit as me today, but her dress was purple. She had the same white bow around her waist and white headband pinning down her hair. She was reaped. I had to volunteer. The story is as simple as that. Violet couldn't kill a fly, let alone a human being. She can't stand seeing an animal hurt either, so obviously she wouldn't make it far in the Games. My father and I couldn't even take her hunting with us. She absolutely refuses to inflict pain on any living creature. When she first found out that my dad wasn't only teaching me about plants out in the woods, but hunting as well, she didn't talk to me for a good week or two.

My mom and I had to convince her the hunting was neccessary, not just for food but for preparation for the games. I remember the look on her face. It was one of horror and disgust. Violet hates the Games, and I do too, but I also know what they can do for a person who is willing to put forth the extra effort to win. I need to provide for my family. I hate the danger my father and I put us in every time we go out into the woods. I'm tired of being afraid, of watching my family go hungry. I have to win these games. I don't just want to, _I have to win._

Jerking my head up, my ears pitch forward a little at the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone knocks on the door, "Who is it?" I yell.

"Me."

I relax at the sound of Daryl's voice. Thank God he's my district partner. "Oh, come on in!"

The door opens and a smiling Daryl pokes his head into my room. "Hey. Dinner's almost ready. We've got about fifteen minutes or so."

I nod and pat a space on the bed beside me, indicating that he should sit with me. He does and I smile at his content demeanor. It occurs to me then that I've never seen him as anything but happy before. "How are you?"

He shrugs his broad shoulders, "Could be better."

I grin sadly. Daryl is sixteen, four years older than me. I often get the impression that I'm small and puny next to most people, but he's never made me feel that way. He's probably the most well mannered boy in all of Panem.

Briefly I recall the first time we met:

It was early winter. I was hunting in the outskirts of District 12 out of nothing but sheer boredom. I could see my hot breath against the biting freeze of that day's atmosphere. It drifted up into the sky in swirls. I smile shelpishly at myself. It may have been childish, but I use to sit and just breath for hours, watching the little show my exhales made against the chilled air of winter.

Anyway, I was amusing myself in the woods by simply breathing when I happened to look at the ground, that's when I see the track. Crouching low I examined the impression it made in the soft dirt. I traced the shape of it with my finger. A foot print. Grimacing I looked around. No one in sight. Studying the track once more I estimated the size and depth of the print. A guy, by the looks of it, and a relatively big one. I hopped forward a little and noticed another print. The way the toe curved indicated that it was a left foot, which meant the one before was a right. The length between the two suggested he was traveling slowly. Not good. This meant he was near, becasue these prints were fresh, only minutes old. He was hunting. Standing abrubtly I find a good tree and climb it until I know I'm almost totally unnoticable. He should be walking back this way. If I'm lucky.

I wait for hours up in that tree. Waiting for this strange hunter to make an appearance. The longer I wait, the angrier I get. This is my territory. I don't need anyone out here trying to take my game. But, what if he's not hunting for animals? What if he knows about my dad and me, and is searching for us? He could be a peacekeeper. My thoughts are interrupted when I catch sight of him. Amazing. He was literally directly beneath the tree I was perched in. He could have walked right under me and I wouldn't have known if I hadn't been paying such close attention. I immediatly feel relief flood me. He's not a peacekeeper. He's just a boy. A tall, blonde, stocky boy. It would be a lie to say his size wasn't intimdating. My inner voice battles with my instincts. What do I do? Kill him? No, that's too drastic. Instead I scurry as far out as I can without falling so I'm in view, "Hey!"

I huddle back as an arrow flies at me through the branches. Before I know what's happened he's danced out of sight and I'm left breathing heavily, trying to hang on to the thick pine limb. Once I get my balance back, I take my cross bow off my back and fit an arrow on it. "Where are you?" I whisper to myself as I scan the forest floor.

It's then I spot a couple of birds shoot out of a bush across from my tree. Smiling I tighten the arrow, readying my shot, and look through the scope on my weapon. Sure enough there he is, I can just barely see his blonde hair through the many twigs and dying leaves, "Might as well come out! I can see you!"

There's a moments pause as my opponent contemplates my logic, then he speaks. His voice is deep and soothing, "How do I know you wont kill me?"

I smile, "I can see you at this very moment. I could shoot you right now. So tell me this, if I was going to kill you, wouldn't I have done it already?"

"I don't know! Maybe you just want me out in the open because you're a terrible shot!"

Automatically I jump to defend my skills, "I AM NOT! Want me to prove it?"

He laughs, "No. You just might get lucky and hit me. Okay, I'm coming out. Don't shoot, okay?"

I say nothing as he reveals himself. He looks to be about 14, give or take a year. My mind registers recognition, I've seen him before. "Put down your bow!" I demand.

His blue eyes sparkle, "Um, I prefer to keep it, just in case." But for compensation he raises it above his head. I suppose that's acceptable for now.

"What are you doing out here?"

Grinning, he tries to peer through the wall of leaves surrounding me, "I could ask you the same question. You're a little young to be out here aren't you?"

Rolling my eyes I sit back on my heels, "Look who's got the upper hand."

"Fair enough, but these aren't your woods. I can hunt out here if I want to. Wait a minute." He takes a step forward and I raise my aim a notch, "You're little Iris, aren't you?"

My brows shoot up in confusion, "Um, maybe."

"Um, maybe." He mocks me, "Don't give me that bull. You are Jeffery's little girl, aren't you?"

I lower my weapon, "How do you know this stuff?"

He lets his arms fall to his sides and lowers himself down, gently placing his bow at his feet, "You're father and I made a pact a few months ago. We met in similar circumstances, and we agreed that we wouldn't hunt in each other's territory. I didn't mean to cross boundaries, but I was tracking a be-" He stops as if considering something, and continues, "I was tracking some game that happened to wander away from me."

I cock a brow, "Must be some nice game for you to break a promise with my dad."

My father wasn't someone to be messed with, even if he does appear to be quiet and fair.

He frowns, "Yep, I guess so."

I chuckle at him, he 'guess's so'. It had to be incredible. Stringing my cross bow across my back I place the arrow in my mouth and climb down the great pine. Once I hit ground I turn to look at this stranger. "Tell you what," I take the arrow out from between my teeth and point it at him threateningly, "Let me help you kill what ever it is you're hunting, which I know has to be completely awesome, and split it with me, 50/50."

He grins, "Why would I do that?"

Walking right up to him I poke his chest with the steel head of my arrow, "Because if you don't I'll tell my dad you crossed your boundaries. That you were hunting our game and taking food out of my family's mouth and money out of our pockets."

Suddenly he puts his hands up. The startling action makes me jump back and ready myself for a fight,

"Whoa, easy. I was just going to say, 'I give'." His expression is one of amusement.

To make a long story short, he agreed to split it with me. We tracked the animal together, took it down using teamwork, (of course we argued about how much I should get the whole time we were cleaning it) and in the end, I took home half a grizzly bear. Some guessing, huh?

We've been close friends ever since. We look out for each other's families. After that fatefull day, even though we split that huge bear, we still kept to our own territories. He left me to my game, and I left him to his. Although sometimes he would venture over into our sector, and my father would show him a thing or two about plants and healing herbs. My father liked Daryl very much. Sometimes I grew jealous of their close relationship. I had always known dad wanted a son, but they didn't have to rub their bond in my face like that. Even if they were completely unaware of the effect it had on me. However, most of the time I enjoyed Daryl's company.

So here we are. Both of us waiting to be thrown into a world of violence and brutality. We are friends. Daryl looks out for me like I'm his own sister. I'm glad he's my partner, but I'm not happy that he's a tribute. Does that make sense?

"Daryl?" I ask slowly, "What happens if we're, well, you know, the last ones left in the games?"

His eyes become sad, and suddenly he looks old, "What ever happens, Iris, we need to take care of each other's families. Agreed?"

I nod, "Of course. I would never forget about Missy." Missy is his adorable six year old sister.

"And I would take care of Violet, and your parents."

Sticking out my pinkie I hold it in front of his face, "Promise?"

He wraps his own little finger around mine and grins, "Promise."

Good. At least now I know that if something bad happens to me, and Daryl is the one who ends up winning that my family will be safe. But, on the inside, I resent him for promising me this. It's like he's saying I don't have a chance. I don't want him to be victor. I want to be. I'm Peeta's cousin after all, and if he could win, then I know I can.

**Daryl Rivers, 16 **

After talking with Iris for a short time, I make my way back to my own room to get ready for dinner. I hated making her swear, but I had to know that if she won she would take care of Missy. I can't blame her for the reluctance in her eyes. I didn't like saying it anymore than she liked hearing it. But, it had to be done. I felt a heavy weight being lifted off my shoulders. No matter what happened, I had to help keep Iris alive until the very end. If it came down to both of us, I knew what would occur. Panem would probably witness the greatest showdown ever. I could just imagine the publicity. Best friends, allies, two kids with families to support, fighting to get back to their loved ones.

And yes, it would be a fight to the finish. I may be bigger than her, and physically stronger, but she is lightening fast and clever. She's almost impossible to catch when she really gets her feet moving. Shaking my head I tried to knock those sobering thoughts and scenarios out of my mind.

The train jerks suddenly as I open my door and I stumble into my room. Some where, something senses my presence and automatically the lights come on. Sighing, I laze around until it's time for me to take a shower. There's a lot of scents, oils and soaps, but I choose the least complicated of the cleansers. Then, I take off my reaping outfit and put on the simple black matching pants and shirt layed out for me on the bed. Strange. I don't remember them being there when I had entered the room. It was probably one of those creepy little servants that never talk. I shudder at the thought of an exsistence like that. Their lives were so simple, and silent.

As I put on my clothes and make my way to the dinner car I can't help but think of Missy. I told her she had to go to Patricks's place. He has a younger sister that Misy could play with. My heart breaks a little every time I recall our goodbyes. She was so scared, right up until I told her that I was just going so I could play a game.

_**Flashback:**_

_"But I want to go with you! Please? Please let me go!"_

_"Missy you can't go." I look into her eyes which are filled with tears; tears of betrayl and sadness. _

_"This game is for big kids." _

_She sits back and folds her tiny arms across her chest in defiance, "I'm not a little kid." She pronounces 'little' like 'wittle'. It makes me smile._

_"You just can't. Okay? Tell you what, when I get first place, I'll share the prize with you. Hmm." I lift her chin up gently so she's looking straight at me, "How does that sound."_

_Her bottom lip sticks out a bit, but she nods, "Okay," Sniffling she rubs her nose, "What will you get?"_

_"Lots of things." I say simply. Her being so small she wouldn't be very excited if I told her money, food, and a big house. She wants things that any kid her age wants._

_As if to prove my point she smiles, "Like a puppy? or a kitty?"_

_Rubbing the top of her head I hug her to my chest, "We can get twenty puppies, and twenty kittens. Think that'll be enough for you?"_

_She pushes away from me and claps her hands together excitedly, "I can give one to Solitaire!"_

_I nod, "Sure."_

_Suddenly she leans forward and touches my face, "Be okay."_

_Tears spring forth and silently trek down my face, I place my hand over her tiny one and close my eyes. "Yeah. I love you, Missy."_

_"I love you, Daryl." _

_**End Flashback**_

My eyes begin to sting and I blink a few times to keep myself from cyring. I wouldn't have to worry so much if we had a mom that actually gave a shit. But no. Instead she's completely off her rocker. Ever since my dad died she went insane. She would get up out of bed and run through the house screaming my dad's name. I'd have to wrestle her down and shoot her up with the tranquilizers the doctors instructed me to use. Which I had to trade a lot of my best game for. I feel nothing but pity for my mother. She was and is truly messed up, and I can't blame her. My father was her entire life.

It was my job to take care of the family. Mom couldn't do anything. And she wasn't always completely nutty, sometimes she would just ask for him. She would come up to me and hold my hand and ask me to find him. I would tell her that I'd try. She'd always smile hopefully, and pat my shoulder. Then mom would go over to Missy and play with her like she was a child too. It was kind of freaky to watch. If she was just pretending to be five, then she was damn well convincing. Although it creeped the shit out of me, Missy was thrilled, so I never made any move to stop their little games.

"Hello." I jump at the voice coming from behind me. Spinning on my heel I come face to face with Hinely, our mentor. I say 'our' because no one has won the games for district twelve since Katniss and Peeta. And they disappeared, taking Haymitch with them. So that leaves one person for Iris and me to share.

"Hey," I manage.

I can't say I'm exhilerated about our predicament. It completely sucks. Hinely is huge, bigger than I am. He has graying hair, but you can tell he's probably only in his early forties. His eyes are a dull and dead green. He's always stoic and I have yet to see him smile, but how can I say I'm surprised? After all, he's a peacekeeper from the Capitol. That's the best they could do. We couldn't go into the games without a mentor. We're currently the laughing stock of Panem. Nobody likes us. We created a rebellion, nobody from our district ever wins the games, and we don't even have a mentor for this year. Perfect.

"So, um," I try to think of a way to finish my sentence, "Why did you decide to become our mentor?"

"I did not. I was assigned the occupation."

I almost laugh, "Oh, sorry."

"It is not your place to be. You were not the one who assigned me."

His statement is simple, and his voice is heavy. I hate how matter of fact he is. "Okay."

Thankfully I don't have to wait long for our awkward silence to be broken. Before we know it we're in the dining car, seated and eating the best dinner I've ever had.

I couldn't even tell you what kind of chow it was. But, there was everything within the food pyramid on that table and then some. We spoke while we ate, getting familiar with each other.

Andalu was our escort. She was incredibly beautiful, and kept snatching glances at Hinely. It made me chuckle. Guess people can find love in the oddest of places. Well, maybe love was too strong a word, but still, she was definetly after him. I couldn't believe he was ignoring her, if I was in his position I'd be all over the woman. She was absolutely stunning. Andalu looked like she might have been in her late twenties. Her hair dark and curly, reaching her waist in seemingly liquid jet black waves. Every time she moved her head it looked as if a million colors were bouncing off her hair: greens, blues, pinks, and purples. Her eyes were two different colors, one green, one blue. I couldn't tell whether they were genetically altered or the real deal- either way they looked completely mind blowing. Her skin was pale and smooth like stone. She had super defined bone structure and pearly white, perfect teeth. Personality wise, she was the complete opposite of Hinely. Always smiling and talking with in a cheerful pitch.

Then there was little Iris. She was the spitting image of her cousin, Peeta Mellark. She had the trade mark blue eyes and blonde hair. Her features were angelic and her movement was fluid- almost like every step she took was planned out.

Most people made the assumption that she was just the sweetest young girl to ever step foot on the planet. I mean, come on, she was twelve years old and five feet tall. If I didn't know her any better I would have thought so myself. She was chatting, laughing and smiling as if it were any other day. But, I did know her better. She may look like a tiny, helpless girl on the outside, but on the inside lurked something much different. She wasn't evil in any way, she was just determined. I figured that out on the first day I met her in the woods. She held her ground until _I_ was the one that gave in. And she was just nine or ten at the time.

"So, are you happy with us, Andalu?" Iris inquired charmingly.

Our escort nodded with enthusiasm, "Oh, of course. You two couldn't be lovlier."

This makes me glance at Hinely. He's mechanically eating his food, and seems oblivious to our conversation. However, I imagine that he's listening and is just pretty good at hiding his emotions. I can almost see the disgust boiling in him. Trying to change the conversation I ask Andalu a question, "So why did you offer to be district twelve's escort?"

She frowns and her eyes dart over toward Hinely, she purses her lips in thought, "Well, I didn't exactly request..."

Laughing I begin eating my food again, "It's fine. We understand. No one likes us."

Hinely straightens, "People dislike District Twelve as a whole. Not the individuals within its boundaries."

I thought about making some smart comment and then changed my mind. No use in getting myself into trouble with this big guy.

"So," Iris starts, "aren't we supposed to make some kind of game plan?"

Hinely blinks, "The mission is simple. Stay alive. In order to survive you will do what your instincts tell you to. Approximately 90% percent of the time you are in the arean you will not remember anything I tell you to do. It is probably better this way."

She scoffs, "How?" His brows narrow on her and she shifts in her chair, "I mean," Her tone changes to something sweet and polite,"How?"

"Fighting is like your hand writing. No one does it the same way. No one has the exact same style. If it was me out there, I would hunt down all the career tributes at the begining and then work my way down the line. I would fight mostly using hand to hand combat. You are small and physically weaker." I snort at this, he has no idea what that 'small' girl is capable of. "You would use a different stratedgy."

She frowns, "So what would you do if you were me?"

"Stick to high ground. Make your kills without getting close."

"So use a bow or something like throwing knives maybe?"

He nods. I frown at this situation. Nothing makes sense anymore. They're discussing this as if it's normal. I don't ask him anything. In fact, I'm pretty much speechless for the rest of the night. If he feels I need to know something, he'll tell me.

When I climb into bed later that night to go to sleep, I pull the covers over my head like used to do when I was just a little kid. Some how I thought back then that it was a barrier that would keep the monsters and demons away. I know now that it does nothing. Even still though, I feel the action blocks out some of the harsh realities of the world. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a bad dream. Maybe. Just maybe.

**Authors Note: .Gosh. PEOPLE OF THE WORLD... WE ARE DONE WITH THE INTRODUCTIONS OF THE TRIBUTES FOR GOOD! THE REAPINGS/TRAIN RIDES ARE FINALLY COMPLETE! Next up is tributes being introduced to capitol living, stylists and the chariot race! Woohoo! A few extra things- from here on out chapters will be in the pov of random tributes (except the interviews of course). I guess we'll see how many povs I can fit into one chapter without making it too hectic. Hopefully these next chapters turn out to be around 7,000 words or so. We'll see. It might not be that much. So what did you think of these two? To the creators- I know you guys didn't say these tributes were familiar with each other, or bonded, but I felt that it would have been impractical if I had made it so that they both hunted in the woods to feed their families and never crossed paths. Also, my polls are going to be put up tonight! BE WATCHING OUT FOR THEM! You never know, it could be your tribute that wins! I won't reveal the winners until the games begin. Until next time my friends! This will be the most epic of all SYOTs! **


	19. The Chariot Race: Part One

**Where, oh where, hath thou reviewers gone? Obviously some of us have a life and can't get on fanfiction sometimes, but come on- it only takes like two seconds to say "This chapter was AWESOME!". Thank you to my faithful ones! You guys keep me going! Now, for the boring stuff! Okay, so from here on out (exception being the interviews) the POVs in each chapter will be chosen at random. Obviously, if your tribute didn't get a chance to 'speak' in one chapter, then they will soon... Pahahaha! (at this moment I am currently listening to the Fullmetal Alchemist show that's playing in the next room and it is cracking me up XD Hehe! Ahem... Sorry for being weird..) Also, depending on how often you review (unless you get lucky and I start writing about your tribute and can't stop) your tribute's view point will be longer in each chapter. Just saying- it only seems fair to the people who take a few minutes to put in a nice review to get a little more input. So say you've only reviewed a few times since the start of this syot, your tribte might only get a paragraph or two and some dialouge. Sounds mean, but that's the way I'm doing it. Sorry if I can't fit at least six tributes into this chapter- I'm just kind of experimenting with it right now. **

**THE CHARIOTS: Part One**

_**-Hazel Cresta D4-**_

My jaw drops. I am at a complete loss for words. There is no adjective that can describe the Capitol, no description that I can put down in writing. The colors. The smells. The sounds and sights. They overwhelm me. District Four was known throughout Panem as being one of the most beautiful places in the enitre nation. That was a lie. Nothing could compare to this.

The buildings tower over us, reaching towards the sky as if they could pull down it down on top of the rest of the world. Each one is incredibly unique. The sunlight bounces off the architecture in ungodly hues; pinks, greens, blues, reds, and purples. The materials that complete the structures are all different- glass, crystal, precious metals. One building in particular strikes me as odd- it's a Skyscraper, and it's blood red. It seems to be made out of rubies. The Scraper twists and turns and has many balconies and 'growths' sprouting out around all the sides. It seems to... pulse. It looks alive. I clutch at my heart and shudder.

Next to me Ray pats my shoulder awkwardly in understanding. I smile at his attempt to calm me. "It's okay. I'm fine."

He nods curtly and continues to stare out the window with me.

"Can you believe this?" I whisper.

"...Yes."

As the train slows, people begin to rush up to us. They wave and point. Automatically I take a step back. They are terrifying. Everyone is altered in some sort of grotesque fashion. Some have dyed skin, unusually styled and colored hair, gentically enhanced features. Others are even more radical, with horns, fox tails, talons, and other animalistic additions.

"Good lord. Are these even people?" It's the most emotion Ray has put into a question since the reapings.

"Well of course they're people silly heads." Our yellow headed escort squeezes in between us and gawks at the scene. "Amazing isn't it? There's nothing like it in the world! Oh, it feels so good to be home!"

I scoff at him and work up enough courage to look back out the window. They are waving. Waving at us like we're celebrities. Which, in a way, I suppose we are. Celebrities getting ready to go to slaughter. And they ea it up.

"Well say hello! You don't want to give them the impression that you hate them. These people have a lot of pride. Don't hurt it."

So we wave. Ray is a little less hesitant than I am. In fact, he begins to smile. Instantly I'm glad he's my partner. If he keeps up the golden boy act, he should draw in plenty of sponsors for us. Once I start blowing kisses the citizens go balistic. They leap into the air and acts as if they're catching them. I can't help myself, I laugh. I laugh like I never thought I would be able to since the reapings ruined my life. Ray looks at me curiously, and cocks a brow.

"What?" I say, "There just so dumb."

For a moment he considers this, then presses his lips into a thin a line to keep from chuckling.

"Hey! We're not dumb!" Icarus jumps to defend his kind. "You're the ones who simply don't know any better."

I shrug and ignore him. Instead I turn to adress Dyner, my mentor, "This isn't quite what I expected."

She smiles, "It's a bit much I suppose. It's just... something you have to see to believe."

I nod, "Yep."

Ray turns away from the window, and settles himself into a chair, "So what happens when we get off the train?"

"You'll meet your prep team."

Frowning, I ask, "Prep team? Yeah, I've heard of them. Are they really as horrible as they sound?"

Dyner shrugs, making her razor sharp, short hair bounce, "Depends. The higher the district, the better the stylist. You guys shouldn't have anything to worry about."

I inhale and walk over to Ray, sitting down near him on a small couch. "Yay. I can't wait for all this to start."

"It already has. The day you were born, the games began for you. You just didn't know it."

Time seems to crawl during our rather short trek through the streets of the Capitol. As we screech to a stop in the station I feel my stomach lurch into my throat. My heart begins to beat a million miles an hour and I keep having to wipe my hands off on my pants because they're sweating like crazy.

When we exit the train I stay as close to Ray as I can. I know- we aren't very fimiliar with each other and I'm probably annoying him, but it felt like the farther away I got from him, the farther I got from home. So naturally, when it was time for me to meet my prep team and stylist, I was quite reluctant to leave his side. It took a peacekeeper to give me a stern look to get me moving.

I cast a wary glance back at Ray, and find him looking longingly in my direction as well. I had absolutely no romantic interest in him what so ever, but I did feel a connection to the boy. It took a lot of mental effort to break that bond. I needed to shake him off anyway. I don't need to be making friends right now. It's the last thing I need to be doing. What if it came down to me and him in the arena? I couldn't let any feelings like compassion get in the way.

As I turn away from my partner I feel a small part of my resolve shake. It's all up to me.

The next few minutes of my life are a blur. There's people shouting at me, a bunch of camera's flashing, things being stuck in my face. I think they were recorders. Capitol reporters are clamoring over each other to ask me questions. I answered a few. I can't remember what I said though. God, let me sound at least half way intelligent. At one point I felt a sharp tug on my hair and realize only moments later someone had jerked a tiny lock of hair out of my head. Immediately I want to fly into a fit of rage and demand the offender to make himself or herself known. Instead I shove that red hot feeling back down into the pit of my stomach. Save it for the games, I think.

Finally the horror ends. Or at least I thought it had. I'm led into a small room, one complete with a washing station and a table with a large mirror on it. After staying in it alone for about five minutes, a team of three men and women burst through the doors. They're chatting away at an incomprehensible speed. Just like the people we were greeted by while inside the train, these capitolites look like freaks.

There is a man with huge indigo blue eyes, and tattooed skin. He has words all over him, and when he moves in closer I begin to catch sight of phrases. I later find out that he did the designs himself, and that the 'phrases' are actually poems about him and his odd fantisies.

The other two are women. One speaks in a high pitched, cat-like tone. Her skin is dyed an awful red color, making her look like some kind of demon. The other isn't so bad. She's young, maybe only twenty or so, and has a lot of feathers surgically inserted into her scalp. Strangely, they look fine on her. They're not ugly bright colors, but normal- like they came off of a hawk or eagle. They contrast well with her platinum blonde locks.

As they set their many bags down on the polished white floor I can't help but feel a little anxious. I jump back when the guy, who turns out to be named Mai, tries to take my shirt off. He explains to me that I have to strip down to my birthday suit (which, by the way, I have no idea what he means at first).

My breathing quickens, "Do I have to?" It sounds childish, but I can't help it. I think the last time this many people saw me naked was when I came out of my mother!

"Sweetie," He says gently, and touches my arm, "I'm gay. No need to worry."

This actually makes me feel a little better, and eventually I'm rid of all my clothes and given a thin robe, which I'm not allowed to wear 90% of the time.

First they give me a bath, and that is totally awkward as well as painful. It's like they're trying to scrub the skin off my body. Silently I say to myself that they probably are. Once they've washed me with some sort of acidic kind of soap I'm dunked into a different tub where they condition my skin for the waxing.

And I thought that when the reporter ripped that chunk of hair out of my head it hurt. Boy, was I wrong. Obviously, being from district four and coming from a wealthy family I was healthy and clean, but my prep team went beyond that. They removed my arm hair. My freaking arm hair! I was horrified when they tore the first waxing strip off. I thought they had made a terrible mistake, but no, it was intentional.

"Is this really necessary?" I plead.

Kinslay, the one with feathers in her hair, frowns in sympathy, "Yeah, it makes you look more attractive."

Mai grins, "Uh huh. And by the way, thanks for being so beautiful. We were afraid you might be ugly, but lucky us!"

I laugh at him. They were afraid I'd be ugly? For being stylists they don't look in the mirror very often.

Once I'm stripped of every single hair, they rub me down with a soothing lotion that calms the burning sensation left on my skin. Then they file down my nails and polish them to gleaming perfection.

Afterwards, i'm left alone once more so I can meet my stylist. Her name is Rosana, and of all the peolple I've met thus far I think she must be the happiest person in the world. Her hair is long and blonde, curling in ridiculously shiny corkscrews all the way down her back. It's filled with streaks of pinks, golds, aquas and silvers. Apparently she is fond of fake lashes, because she seems to have on the largest, thickest set of falsies I've ever seen and confides in me that she never leaves her house without them. Her eyes are an unrealistic sea green. She's tall and she must have been a model at one point because she walks with extreme poise and grace, like a camera is trained on her at all times.

The whole while she smiles and talks nonstop. She combs my hair and gently cleans my face, and breifly I'm reminded of my mother. I don't know why, because the two women are nothing alike. Perhaps it's the feather light touch and the uplifting comments.

She places both hands on either side of my face and lifts my chin up til I'm looking at my reflection, "Goodness. I don't know if I can do much more for you. You can't perfect a master peice."

I flush at her compliments, "I wouldn't go that far." I say quietly.

She smiles and her face suddenly appears right next to mine in the mirror, "Well then, remind me when we're through to get a doctor for you, because you need to have your eyes checked."

_**-Newton Gordon D3-**_

I grip the edge of my seat in pain. Holy moly I feel like such a girl at the moment. Why are they tweezing my brows? Why? I feel my skin pucker in protest, and can almost see the redness the plucking leaves behind. To my relief my prep team is quick and the pain lasts only minutes. I begged them not to take too much, after all, I already feel like a female- I shouldn't have to look like one too.

Once they've scrubbed my body until it's numb, and waxed any unwanted hair, I'm left to experience the wrath of my own stylist. Her name is Delila and she's probably the weirdest looking thing I've seen in my entire life. She has a tail... and whiskers. Oh. Dear. God.

Squeezing my eyes shut I pretend that this woman is not the person in charge of my appearance. However, I don't have enough imagination for the task.

Delila roughly shoves my head under a running faucet and uses her rounded nails to scratch at my already burning scalp. She applies some type of fruity smelling shampoo into my hair and does the lather, rinse, and repeat routine about five times. Afterwards, she uses some type of high tech conditioner that could probably turn straw into silk. Once she's done with this process she sets me infront of a blow drier and presses a bunch of buttons. A strong current of warm air flows out of a vent directly over my head and straightens out my hair while also untangling it. Man. Maybe I should cut it off. This crap is so degrading. First I have to strip down to nothing for a whole group of people I don't know and then I have to get pampered like a girl. Faintly I notice the growing blush in my face and neck.

Then I hear a crisp, sharp sound, like metal on metal. My brows raise in disgust when I see her lift a pair of scissors in my direction. Hands fly to my head and I shield my lushis locks from her awful intentions. "NO!" I almost scream, "I don't want my hair cut!"

She smiles, "It's just a trim. Besides, I love the length, but lets face it- you've got a lot of split ends. And you have such nice hair. Why don't you take better care of it?" Her voice reminded me of nails on a chalk board.

"I'm a guy. It doesn't cross my mind that often."

"Hm."

I cringe at the sound the clippers make, and watch in frustration as bits and clumps of hair fall like rain to the floor. She takes a razor and uses some type of slicing technique on my bangs, and when she's finished my head feels a little lighter and I can see things without flipping my hair out of the way first. Okay, so I may kind of like it.

Despite myself I can't help but pat my head. Dang. This woman may have been mean, but she was good at what she did.

I'm left to wonder over my hair for a few minutes while Delila exits the room to retreive something. When she returns I notice a silver looking package in her hands. "What's that?"

"Your outfit."

"Oh, um, okay." Can she tell that I'm nervous? And then I put on the outfit. I actually laugh.

The rest of my prep team comes pouring into the room and they cover their mouths in excitement.

"Oh you look adorable!"

Delila agrees, "Like a sexy, futuristic warrior." Blushing at her compliment I look down and study my outfit.

It's a jet black two peice kind of suit. My pants are a little loose to make my legs appear bigger than they really are, and I've got on a jacket that has padding in it to make up for the muscles I don't have. I've got a head peice on that has a microphone type deal in front of my mouth and a hearing aid looking thing close to my ear. There's also a pair of dark sunglasses connected to the headset and surprisingly I can see very well out of them. There's intricate gadgets lacing up and down my arms and legs. They blink with every step I take and it kind of looks like I'm a walking ninja gift shop.. but not in a bad way. The last effects are my boots, which are also black and laced up to my calves.

"I bet you thought I was going to put you in something incredibly wild, didn't you?"

I can't lie to my stylist, nodding I take a look at myself in the mirror, "Why didn't you? You're so..." I couldn't find a way to end my sentence. "I mean, I just thought since you dress the way you do that you'd be a little more..."

She cocks a brow, "Insane?"

Laughing I shrug my shoulders, "Kinda."

Crossing her arms over her chest she leans back against a dresser, "Yeah, well, you're cute, but cute doesn't attract sponsors. Sexy does, sexy and fierce. We could of dressed you up in some scientist getup, but why? Who says inventors don't use their gadgets?"

Gringe, one of the women on my prep team squeals, "Oh I can't help it! You just look so damn sexy! They're going to eat you up!"

Delila makes me sit down and so she can put on the finishing touches. Temporary tattoos. They're a blood red color and I can't help but wonder what they're supposed to represent. When I ask she tells me it's an idea she got from a book (strange, she didn't strike me as the type of person who'd enjoy a good read).

"There's this ancient culture that used to decorate brave warriors with tattoos before they went into battle. They'd paint their entire bodies. I just want everyone to know that you mean business."

I smile at her logic and start to rethink my opinion of her, "Neat."

"Hm. Well don't give all the credit to the the literary world. I also gained inspiration for this design from microchips. If you really study them, there's hidden patterns on the surface." She lifts my chin up to examine my face and grins in approval, "I am a genius."

Then I'm taken to the bottom level of the Remake Center where I'm supposed to meet up with Claire. It's a giant stable full of horses. I've never seen a horse with my own eyes before, only in books. They're truly massive and magnificent creatures. Our chariot will be pulled by a team of four blood bays. Their coats are soft as silk, and they have muscles that bulge beneath their thick hides. Snorting, the creatures paw at the dirt anxiously. They've done this before, and they can't wait to do it again. I go up to one on the outside and stroke it's red brown mane softly. Dang. It has better hair than I do.

"His name is Maximus."

I turn around to see who's talking to me. He's an old man, but looks sturdy and firm. I'm stunned by how normal he looks. In a simple shirt, pants and boots. He walks around to stand by my side and adjusts the bridle on the great stallion. When the animal lifts its head, he's a full three feet taller than either of us.

"He's big." I say a bit dumbly.

The old man laughs- it's a rusty sound, like he's gargled dust for years, "Big? Boy this horse is huge." He waves a hand at the other three horses, "Those are his clones."

My brow arches with interest, "Really? Clones? Why clones?"

He shrugs, "They're genetically altered, so they're more obedient. Easier to train." He sighs, "Frankly, I miss the old days. I could just kick myself for wishing for this type of thing." He strokes Maximus with sorrow, "It takes away their spirit."

Looking at me he smiles sadly and sticks out a wrinkly, dry hand, "Name's JR."

"Newton." His handshake is strong and curt. "Nice to meet you."

"Wish we could have met under different circumstances." JR takes his hand away from mine and goes back to adjusting the tack on all the horses.

"Oh my gosh! Are those ours?" Claire comes rushing up beside me with a hand over her mouth.

"Yes ma'am." I can't help but note the slight pride JR takes in his horses.

I'm soon too distracted to notice much else though, Claire looks breath taking. She's wearing basically the same thing as me, but it's, ahem, tighter in certain places and her outfit is white. Her long dark hair is in a pretty, elaborate braid that twists halfway around the back part of her head. A strand of flashing buttons and lights is laced throughout the braid. The collar on her jacket is 'popped' and it makes her throat look slender. The neckline cuts down into a small v shape and she has on a black belt that's equiped with legitemit looking futuristic technology. I blush furiously when she winks at me.

Sticking out a manicured hand she pets the horse just like I was doing previously, as if she can't believe he's real.

"Goodness, she's really pretty."

"He," I correct her, "His name is," I shift uncomfortably, "His name is Maximus."

"Oh, that's a nice name. It suits him." She tiptoes around us so that she's infront of him and scratches his nose, "It's a strong name for a strong horse," She coos at him lovingly.

He breathes in her face as if agreeing with the statement, and rubs his muzzle against the palm of her hand. JR chuckles, "He likes girls. Always has."

I snort, and mumble under my breath, 'Girls seem to like him too,'.

"He especially likes the attention. Usually the tributes just ignore him. But, then again, usually they're not here this early. You guys are the first ones here."

One of the horses in the middle catches Claire showering Max with kisses and praise and nudges her side a bit roughly as if saying 'Hey! I'm here too!'

Claire laughs and proceeds to scratch two noses simoultaineously when her stylist bursts into the stables, "OH MY GOD!" Jerking Claire away from the animals she examines my partner's nails, "Oh, thank goodness. At least they aren't dirty." She lifts her hands to her nose and sniffs, then presses her lips into a thin line. "And you don't smell too bad either."

JR looks angry, "Well what did you expect? These animals are cleaner than you could ever hope to be you dirty urchin!"

The stylist gapes at the old guy, "Well I never!"

Claire doesn't seem too annoyed though, in fact she laughs and jumps to her stylists defense, "She means well."

JR grunts and moves around to the other side of the Chariot so he doesn't have to deal with the woman. Claire looks as if she's about to say something but stops abrubtly. I follow her gaze and my own mouth falls open a bit. There's a couple walking by. They are careers. I recognize both from the reapings. They're kind of hard to miss being the traditional District One competitors and all. The girl has chocolate brown hair and sharp, cutting eyes. As she walks by she glances in our direction. Time seems to stand still for us as we see with our own eyes for the first time one of our fellow tributes. Her chin is held high and her brows arch in slight curiosity as she walks by with her long, strutting stride. Slowly she turns away from us as if we're nothing but bugs that simply can't be bothered with. Then she is followed by her partner. He is gigantic. Television definetly did not do him justice. His muscles bulge in an obviously inhuman way. He has the biggest smirk I've ever seen on his face while he lumbers by. Again- it feels as if seconds are turned into minutes. When he catches me staring his eyes narrow in contempt and he gives me a small, threatening two-fingered wave. He has a swagger to his walk and it's quite clear that he thinks he's above everyone else. I'm so busy studying their faces and gaits that I don't remember what they were wearing.

Without thinking I lace my fingers around my wrist and sure enough my heart is beating twice as fast as its normal rate. Man. Kind of intense. I find myslef chanting a phrase in my head for the rest of the day. _Brains over Brawn. Brains over Brawn. Brains over Brawn._

_**-Zane Wolf-**_

I rolled my shoulders and swung my arms around, getting a feel for the costume. God it was heavy!

"How is it?" Natalia takes a quick measurment and adjusts a couple of the ties that keep the brace tight around my forearm.

"Pretty nice, actually. I mean, it's weighs a ton, but I can move well." I give her a genuine smile.

I picture her eyeing me with pride, "Indeed. You look dashing."

After numerous hours of begging she finally takes the blindfold off to let me see myself in the mirror. My stylist wanted it to be a surprise. Trust me, it was.

The boy I saw in the reflection didn't look anything like Zane Wolf. More like a knight from an ancient period; a time where better things exsisted. No wonder the outfit felt so incredibly massive- it was made entirely out of Silver. The breast plate had intricate designs carved into its metal surface, the arm and shin braces were also meticulously decorated. Every move I made sent light bouncing off into all directions. She draped a red cape across my shoulders and fastened it with an elaborate golden pin below the base of my throat. The colors contrasted so well that there was no way I could be missed during the chariot rides. Where their wasn't metal there was chain mail or leather. No matter the material, each had to have had hours of work put into it.

I turned to her in awe, "It's amazing!"

She smiles fondly, "Of course it is. Did you expect anything different?"

"Where did you come up with the idea?" Subconscieously, I rub my hands over the microscopic valleys and dips in my arm brace.

"Arthur."

My forehead wrinkles, "Never heard of him."

"He was a soldier, a king." She waves her hand as if dismissing the thought, "Of course some say he wasn't real, but I believe he was. Sometimes it's good to have heros like that. You remind me of him."

I frown with doubt, "How?"

"Noble, strong, curteous, chivalric. Take your pick. They all fit your description." She ushers me over to a chair and tells me to close my eyes. I comply with her request and eagerly await the finishing touches of the costume. I feel something being placed on my head. It's a helmet. It has red horse hair, the same color as my cape, sprouting up out of the helmet in a mohawk style. It frames my face so that my eyes are visible, but my nose is partly covered.

"This is really... thanks." Running my hand through the red hair I feel it tickle the underside of my wrist and palm.

"Ah!" She smacks my fingers comically and I jerk them away. "You had better be grateful, because all that sodering and carving took me ages."

My jaw drops. "You did all of this?"

She nods, "Yep."

"Good greif. That must of took forever."

She chuckles, "Well it wasn't any picnic if that's what you mean."

When my prep team is finally allowed to see me, they all gawk. Natalia make me spin for them and do all sorts of wierd fighting stances, but I don't mind. After all, they put so much work into it I could at least humor them in this small way.

"So," I begin, "Why a knight? I mean I know part of it's from the chivalric thing, but how does it tie into District Two?"

Natalia grins, "What on earth do they teach in school these days? Okay, so lets start from the begining. Long ago, in a land far, far away, there were people called gladiators." She cocks a brow at me, "Follow?" I nod and she continues, "The gladiators were specifically trained for one purpose and one purpose only. Fighting in an arena. It's a lot like the Hunger Games we have today. They fought wild animals, battled with the forces of nature, and each other. They fought until only one was left standing. Sometimes they had chariot races, not like the one you're about to partake in. Theirs were much different and far more violent. Their chariots were armed with spikes and their horses ran at dangerous speeds. In fact the most difficult part was probably staying on the bloody things. Anyway, they raced each other around a large track and used the dirtiest, and meanest tactics to win."

My brows knit together, "Okay, how does that represent two?"

She waves her hand apoligetically, "Oh, yes, of course. So district two is all about producing peacekeepers right? And it's also famous for being the toughest competition in the Games. This is where our theme comes from. You take a person with exteme potential, you train them, they fight, and they win. They're the hero's. The ones everyone looks up to. Although, sometimes, one must commit acts of violence and brutality to achieve such..." She searches for a word, "greatness."

"And I'm supposed to be a gladiator?"

She laughs, "My dear! You be what you want to be. This is simply your costume. Now, I'm afraid, as lovely as you have been, that it is time to head to the Remake Center."

As we ride the elevator to the first of the Hunger Games events I gulp down my fear. It keeps trying to bubble to the surface and reveal itself. I can't let that happen. But, even still, the thought of millions of people seeing me on live television is unsettling. I'm just Zane. Just me. No one has ever taken an interest in me before, but now that I'm being sent to my death suddenly no one can wait to get their hands on this. Sick.

"Nervous?" My stylist clutches my hand with care.

I shake my head at the question, "Not even a little bit."

She laughs, "And you wonder why we dressed you up as a warrior."

My breath comes out a little shakily, and my voice is raspy, "I don't know what to do."

Natalia seems to think for a moment, her eyes narrow in thought, "Just do what feels right."

Laughing I almost tell her that doing what I think is right just might get me turned into an Avox, but I hold my tounge. They listen. They watch. I don't want to be targetted while I'm out in that arena. I can't be.

We're escorted by a peacekeeper to our chariot and along the way I meet up with Starr. Starr. She's my district partner, and although she's only fifteen she appears to be more mature than that. I think she had wanted to volunteer later- when she was at the maximum age.

"Hey." Her voice is sing-songy, like a bird's.

I nod and can't help but take a glance at her. She's not dressed like I am. She's in like a body suit type of thing. It looks like it's made out of leather or something. She has a black cape fluttering behind her and a red and black mask covering parts of her face. It has feathers on it. At least our colors compliment each other.

Vaguely I notice Starr wrinkle her nose in disgust, "God, it stinks in here." _Ever the whiner, _I think to myself.

It would be a lie to say that I'm fond of my partner. Frankly she annoys me a bit. If she's not being rude or cocky, then she's acting like a fake. I thought at first that there might have been a small chance that we could be allies, but it occurs to me now that it's highly unlikely. Then again, I suppose she's not here to make friends. Neither of us are.

We mount our Chariot with as much grace as possible. My costume suddenly feels a thousand pounds heavier and I am grateful for the Helmet. Natalia helps me put it on my head and tells me to put my shoulders back and stand tall. I do as she says.

Our golden horse begin to move on their own, and at first I wonder if I should take hold of the reins and steer. When I ask they simply say that the animals are trained to move by themselves.

My heat pounds harder with every inch closer we get to the streets of the Capitol. Without warning, the doors to the stable are thrust open, and our horse bolt after the district one chariot. I'm too concentrated on keeping my balance to pay attention to any of the other tributes. Besides, I'll have plenty of time for that when the games start.

For a moment the light reflecting off all the buildings lining the streets is blinding, and the blood throbs in my ears. So I can't see or hear anything a first. However, after a few seconds, everything hits me like a brick to the face.

The smells. The sounds. The sights. But above all it's the people that catch my eye. The shout and jump and scream and point. I want to cover my ears, but I resist the urge. Instead I square my shoulders and wave. I get nervous. No one seems to be looking at us. Sure, obviously they take a couple of glance in our direction, I mean we're the district two tributes, but they're not _really_ looking.

I back track and try to think of something that my draw in some people. Thinking it's a bit lame, I ball up my fist and pump it in the air. Then I smile. It was just the thing. Feeling a bit brave I raise both my arms in the air and flex. They eat it up. I can hear them shouting things like, 'District Two', and 'Zane', but I laugh when I hear this, 'Wolf Warrior!' I don't know why but I think that last one is hilarious.

Daringly I steal a peak at Starr. She's blowing kisses like crazy and doing a queen wave. I know what she's shooting for. Elegance. Sweetness. And I also know better than to believe in this act.

Breathing in the putrid air I try not to feel disgusted with myself. I hate the Games. But that doesn't change anything. I'm in them anyway. I need to start acting like I am. Silently I make myself a promise. I won't lose the real me in this war. I won't lose Zane. That part of me that rejects everything I've done so far has to be tucked away for the next few weeks. For now, I'm going to be a different guy. The guy none of the other tributes will like. The guy who not only thinks he can win the games, but knows he can.

_**-Maia Colt-**_

I clutch at the edge of the chariot. Fear bubbles inside me, threatening to send my lunch back the way it came. I've never seen a horse. I've never been on one. Now I'm about to ride in a chariot being pulled by four of the massive creatures.

Yelga pats my hand firmly, "Straighten up girl. You don't want anyone to think you're scared."

Smiling bitterly I do my best to gather some grace, "I'll try."

The red headed woman nods firmly, "Please do. This is the closest you'll get to potential sponsors. Those people out there lining the streets could be the difference between life and death in the arena. Don't throw it away."

Gulping I squeeze my eyes shut, and shake my head, "But... but I don't know what to do."

She moves closer and I lower myself to hear her better over the racket of the stables, "Do what ever it takes. Wave. Blow kisses. Smile. Hell, strip if you think it'll get you some attention!" I draw back from her in horror and she grins evily, "Okay, so maybe that's a little bit much... for you. But, it has been done. You want to win?" I nod feverishly, and she cocks a brow, "Say it. Say 'I want to win'.

Swallowing hard I whisper it with the most conviction I can muster, "I want to win."

Absently I notice the chariot shift a little. Erik must have gotten on. God! That only means we're about to start. I try to control my breathing. Yelga places a slim hand on either side of my face, "Do what ever it takes. No matter what it is- make them look at you! Make sure they remember!"

Then someone shouts for all the tributes to mount up. Shakily, I stand erect and inhale deeply. Glancing at Erik I take note that he is speaking with his mentor as well. No doubt recieving advice similar to Yelga's. I need something to busy my hands with, so I clutch the reins and roll the leather around between my palms. The horse jerk excitedly and lurch forward. The trainer yells at me to drop the reins, and I toss them away. Once my partner's mentor has left, he turns to me with a smile on his face.

"Well, you look nice!" I can sense the fear in his voice, but the sincerity is there also.

I simply nod and look away. It seems like a rude gesture, but I can't let myself trust him. Or anyone. No one will want me as an ally. I have a limp. I have a lazy eye. No use in trying to make friends if it won't benifit me in the arena. The last thing I need is some one brown nosing me, and then stabbing me in the back after they gain my trust. No. I refuse to let anyone get to me. Although I'm sure Erik's intentions are purely honorable, I can't be nice to him. I can't let him be nice to me either. I don't want any friends in the arena. It just makes it all the more difficult to kill without feeling any remorse.

Music reaches my ears and our horses fly forward, making me nearly fall off the back of our ride. Quickly I regain my balance and hang onto the edge of the chariot for dear life. It is starting. Our horses trot up closer to the doors and we wait impatiently for our turn. Grinding my teeth I try to come up with a game plan. What can I do? What will attract people to me? I have no idea. Deep down I'm disgusted with myself. I shouldn't even be trying to please these people. It's not advisable to go against you mentor's suggestions...

Breifly I'm reminded of my father. He was killed by peacekeepers for mere words. His desires to be rid of the Capitol and games were obvious, but he wouldn't have acted out. He wouldn't have hurt anyone. Not really.

What do I do, dad? What can I do?

I suppose I could always push Erik off the chariot. That would be sure to gain me some sponsors. But it would also get me killed. Or would it? If I did something radical like that, would I get in trouble? No. The wheels in my head turn for a moment, then come to an abrubt stop. Of course _they_ wouldn't do anything to me. They would just destroy my family. I can't take that risk.

Anyway, I'm not given very much time to sort out the matter. District one and two have already raced out of the stables. The huge building is flooded with light and I can hear the cheers of the crowd outside. Sick. My grip on the chariot tightens with anger.

I take one last look at my mentor and know she's already figured out I don't plan on putting on any kind of _good_ show for these freaks. She frowns and pinches the bridge of her nose. Then looks up, swiftly nods, and gives me a two fingered salute.

With new found courage I brace myself as our gray dappled horses race to fall in place behind district five. I notice for the first time that I've never actually seen my fellow tributes until now. I try not to get distracted by them. I have to concentrate on me.

Once we're finally out of the stables, which doesn't take long, I'm blinded by the immense amount of light. It burns my pupils in the most painful way, and I must blink many times to clear up the tears forming at the edges of my lids. When I'm able to see, my breath is sucked from my chest. I see people. Lots and lots of people. Thousands. They're screaming louder than I thought they were before and they're leaping with joy at the sight of us. Of their entertainment.

Waving a little I swallow the feeling of weakness. I'm just doing it for sponsors. Sponsors only. If they don't take time to notice me then that's their problem.

"Are you going to smile?" Erik has the dumbest looking grin on plastered on his face. I roll my eyes.

Then, quite comically, I feel a lightbulb flash over my head. Sticking out my tounge like I'm some punk rock star, I scrunch my face up and lift both my hands in the air. And I flip everyone off. The problem? They take it the wrong way. The crowd starts to cheer for me and people throw flowers. I can see the ones we haven't passed yet pointing at our chariot and jumping in excitement.

Shrugging mentally I keep up the act. Who cares if they don't realize I'm actually telling them to, well, ahem- '_procreate'_ off. If they want it, they can have it.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Erik studying me with concern. Hmm. He knows I'm not pretending. Luckily the capitolites are too stupid to realize my actions are inteded to be insulting.

I drown out their cries. Pretty soon my ears are throbbing, and the world slows down. Everything is a blur as our horses run to keep up with the others. I barely feel the chariot moving over the smooth texture of the capitol steets. Stretching out all my fingers and extending my arms, I throw my head back and look at the sky. It is streaked with pinks, blues, oranges, reds, and purples. The sun is now hidden behind the massive building of the Capitol. I miss it. I want to feel it's warmth. I want to see it's light. I want so many things.

But, more than anything, I want to go home. And I intend to get back. By any means necessary.

**A/N: Okay! I'm sorry this one has so few tributes in it! (remember though, there's like two or three bloodbaths, and I'm not doing much over them anyway, so that kind of makes up for the two tributes I didn't do) I promise on my dog's soul that the next chapters will have more in them (at minimum six per chappie)! I just don't know how much I can get out this week and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for too long. I didn't realize what I was getting myself into writing the povs so long (Like I said before, this was an experiment). Next chapter they'll be shorter (but don't worry, I'm going to give each tribute at least a thousand words) and I'll be able to fit more tributes in. Like I said before, the more you review, the longer the pov for your tribute is. So review! (Even if you don't your tribute still gets plenty of input, but it's just not as much as what it could be). I'm thinking I'm going to try to fit 8 tributes into the next chapter in which I will write about the middle/last part of the race. That means that this chapter and the next will equal 12 view points. The next 12 povs (two more chapters) will consist of the training. There might be a chapter in between these segments where you get a little snap shot of some tributes conversing with their mentors, stylists, and settleing into the capitol life style. R&R my sweets!**

**P.S. REMEMBER TO VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE TRIBUTE! PLEEEEAAAASE!**


	20. The Chariot Race: Part Two

**Authors note: Okay! So I got quite a few reviews after that last chapter! Thanks everyone! Again, I just want to remind everyone that you need to keep track of your points. I'll recount EVERYTHING before the games start, but it's more than likely I'll miss some things! So make sure ya count! Also- I've changed my mind on the poll, who ever wins gets 30 points! So vote on my poll! I'm taking it down about the middle of next week and putting up the other one, hurry! (In the event of a tie I will have a few close ff friends break it). And only three people have voted- so we have a tie right now. **

In this Chapter:

Ryan Perry

Daryl Rivers

Monique Steel

Phoebe Taylor

Laveda Sodaet

Erik Traub

THE CHARIOTS: Part Two

_**-Ryan Perry D9-**_

The stallions pulling our chariot toss their heads and snort with anxiety. I can't say I feel much better. Pip stands next to me, grasping the edge of the contraption to steady herself. I try to ignore her fear. Frankly it kind of pisses me off. Fear is like a fire- it's quite catching. All a person needs is a tiny spark to get it going and then it spreads on its own, scorching everything in its path. So here I am trying to keep a cool head and she's over there hyperventilating. Doesn't she realize that not only is that bad for her, but for me as well? Why couldn't I have gotten a better partner?

Music begins to play outside in the Capitol streets and somone yells for the remaing tributes to mount up. I soon lose interest in Pip's cowardice and find myself studying my fellow competitors. Some look like they would put up a serious challenge, others not so much. Hell, my district partner was one of the 'others'. She would die in the bloodbath. No sweat. Hopefully it would be a quick death for her. She'd better pray that her killer is someone who's not half crazy with bloodlust.

The sound of the cheering and yelling outside the stables makes my hands shake in anticipation. Popping my neck I try to think about something else. Maybe my mom and little sister? But no, that just makes me all the more homesick. Instead I take a deep breath and avert my gaze to anywhere but in Pip's direction. I can hear her whimpering. Damn.

I watch as a young girl darts past our chariot and weaves in and out of people and animals with precise movement. She runs under the belly of the district seven lead horse and climbs up onto her own chariot. My brows shoot up in surprise. Quick little thing. Very agile.

I try to figure out what district she belongs to but before I can the doors to the remake center are flung open. Dust swirls in the air and light pours into the building. I catch sight of the people lining the streets surge with excitement. There has to be a million peacekeepers out there. They're pushing capitolites back, keeping them from running into the streets and getting trampled by thousands of pounds of flesh and metal. The horses pulling our chariots are so well trained that they don't even need guidance from us. They're taught to stop for nothing. The ride is suposed to last only twenty minutes, but I have a hankering that it'll seem like much longer than that.

I grit my teeth and arrange my feet so that I have optimum balance. Out of the corner of my eye I see Pip trying to do the same. My mentor, Ceaser, comes up to me and slaps my back. "Show 'em what your made of."

I nod and look ahead of me. Time to play.

District one pulls into the streets and they wave and blow kisses and flex muscles like a couple of idiots. I grimace at their perfomance. What an original act. Then again, I suppose there's not much any tribute can do on these things. Our horses lurch forward to follow behind eight. Obviously they're dressed very well coming from a district that manufactures textiles and clothing.

Once we pull out onto the streets we're greeted by the largest group of people I've ever seen. They all seem to blend together as crazy colors mix and odd smells fill the air. Our horses thunder across the pavement and the sound of cheers and yelling drowns out even Pip's sobs of discomfort. I wave and attempt to look as confident as possible. My contempt for Pip grows slightly. We need sponsors! Nobody is going to want her if she keeps up the baby act.

Squinting my eyes I try to think of something that might gain me some attention, but I can't. Nobody is looking at us. They're all searching for celebrities and entertainers. I've got news for them- I'm neither of those things. I never have been and I don't plan on changing my attitude any time soon. If they want some good looking, giddy, flirtacious fluke of a tribute then that's what they can have. I can't wait to see the looks on their pathetic faces when I win the games.

The Capitol looks completely different from what I thought it did coming through the city on the train. The buildings loom over us and it astounds me that they don't fall over from the odd angles they're built at. They gleam in the rays of the sun and weird colors are reflected off their surfaces. Why in the mother fucking Hell would someone build a purple skyscraper?

I risk a glance behind us and see district ten tributes doing the exact same thing as me. Waving and smiling. Well, at least I'm not in the minority. Again I study the throng of people and wave. I manage to lock eyes with a few, but not very often.

These people are just sick. With their ugly hair and stupid animalist features. Who would want to wear a pair of horns on their head? Who would want heart shaped lips, and fox tails surgically attatched to their lower back? They do apparently.

Our chariot horses keep running, until sweat lathers their bodies and their noses flare from the strain of the work out. The muscles under their thick coats coil and bunch together with each stride.

Inhaling deeply I sneak a peek at Pip. She's lightened up some and is offering a small wave every so often. Instantly I pity her. Her stylist dressed her up like a bird. Like a chicken. I suppose the dress is nice enough, but the idea of the outfit makes me laugh. It's just so ironic. Why would you dress up a tribute as an animal that was about to be sent to a slaughter house? Was it on purpose?

My own stylist dressed my up in a butcher type get up. I had fake blood splattered on my white apron and I was equipped with a black belt full of fake knives. Too bad they're not real. It's then that I get a small idea.

Picking a rubber carving blade out of my belt I heft it in my hand and act like I'm aiming it at the heads of the tributes in front of us. The crowd almost immediately catches my small act of violence and they begin to point and clap with joy. Of course I was just pretending, but it got me the attention I needed. I smirk evily as we blur past capitolites and they squeal with delight. Some shout at me to throw it at the district eight girl and boy while others beg and scream, 'Over here! Over here!' or 'Throw it this way!'. I was dumbfounded that anyone would asked to be basically stabbed. Afterall, they didn't know this was just a prop. They though it was real. Goodness, could these people get any sicker? What am I asking, of course they could.

Tossing the knife underhanded it sailed through the air into the audience and a group of people fought each other to gain possesion of it. No doubt it would sell for a great deal at an auction... or it would simply make a great decoration for a Hunger Games fan.

_**-Daryl Rivers D12-**_

Next to me Iris is smiling like a mad woman. She's jumping up and down and waving like a crazy person. Her laughter is contagious and I'm soon waving and grinning with just as much enthusiasim.

The people of the Capitol stretch out their hands as if they can touch the other tributes. Their mouths are gaping wide open as they scream things at them. The most I can catch is the word 'District' and random numbers. No one seems to be yelling for us. I feel a pang of disappointment in myself. But what can I do besides wave?

Most of the ride I'm just trying to keep my balance; Iris doesn't seem to have the same problem though. She was so crazy about the horses the moment she set eyes on them that I doubt anything could put a damper on her mood at this moment.

Honestly, even if we were doing backflips off this thing, I still don't think people would look. District Twelve is a disgrace to the nation of Panem. We're nothing compared to the other tributes, we're dirt in the eyes of our president. People are probably just too afraid to cheer for us. I know I would be.

Iris leans into me smiling, yelling in my ear, "This is sick!" I can't tell wether she means it in a good or bad way.

Nodding slowly I try to keep a confident grin plastered on my face. It's difficult though, when these people are the difference between life and death- and none of them even want to acknowledge you.

This is nothing like Katniss' year. Our outfits have gone back to the rather unoriginal coal miner get up. If people do sponsor us it will only be because of an insanely good training score. I'd just have to work hard during training. That's the only way I could ever hope to gain sponsors.

_**-Monique Steel D5-**_

I'm getting extremely pissed off. Why is everyone trying to upstage me? It's like they're asking for me to open up a can of 'whip ass' and serve it to them directly! I glance at Timothy and instantly grow disgusted. Weak. Sickly. Easy kill. I will be sure to take him down myself in the bloodbath. No need for him to worry, I'd make it a painless death. The other careers would torture him to gain sponsors. I would be merciful.

SHIT! I could just rip their damn heads off! District One is in front of us, waving and cheering like dumb asses in their stupid glittering costumes and dyed skin. Hopefully that dye is permanant. It would be hilarious to kill a District One tribute with snow white flesh!

And Timothy isn't doing anything. Is he trying to make us look bad? I want to shove him off the back of our chariot- save him the Cornucopia and get it over with quickly.

I can't let him bring me down. And then I get the idea. At first is seems propostrous. Am I even allowed to do it? Shaking my head I decide it doesn't matter. Who would I be hurting?

Luckily I'm not wearing a dress.

My costume isn't exactly original, but I could care less at the moment. At least I could manuever in it pretty well. Taking off the stupid science geek goggels I throw them underhanded into the crowd. Then I place my hands on the edge of the chariot and leap onto it with grace. Yes, that's correct- I'm crouching on the edge of our chariot. I smirk as I envision the other tributes watching my stunt. They'll be so jealous.

The Capitol streets are smooth, and the horses glide over them with ease, so I don't have to put forth much effort as far as maintaining balance goes. The only thing I have to worry about is making the jump. My plan is to spring off the edge of the chariot and land on the back of the lead horse.

Grinding my teeth I plant my hands and feet so that I'll have a good kick off. I squint as the sun blinds my eyes. Ah, Hell. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. But people are already looking at me- pointing and cheering and edging me on. They want me to do it. I have no choice now. If I back down then I'll look like a coward and no one will want to sponsor me then.

Taking a deep breath I steady myself one last time, and digging my toes into the chariot I leap off the edge. The world seems to stop spinning as I sail through the air, my hair whipping in my face. I must look crazy. Like a wild girl.

I missed. I land right on the back of the inside horse and some how slip- ending up dangling from its side. I scramble frantically to keep a good hold on the animal. I'm holding onto the leather straps connecting it to the chariot and manage to place my feet on a steel rod that seperates the middle horses- connecting the team to the chariot. The golden stallion tosses his head with surprise and I pray that he doesn't buck or act out in any way that would send me tumbling into a thousand pounds of wood and metal. Glancing down I realize just how fast we're moving. The gray pavement flies beneath us and suddenly the world and time is switched to fastforward. I scramble up onto the back of the horse and grab hold of his mane.

Now people are looking. Hell, everyone is looking! The nation of Panem has its eyes on me. Me! I can feel the weight of their stares, hear the sounds of their cheers. I know my parents are proud to call me their daughter. I know my karate master back home is grinning in approval.

I set myself to work unleashing his tack so I can break away from the team and chariot. As I'm undoing the last buckle I risk a peek at Timothy. His mouth is hanging open, he's at a complete loss for words. Smiling evily I pick up the last leather peice keeping us tied to the other horses, wiggle it infront of my face, and toss it towards him.

Turning away from the boy I drive my heels into the creature I'm sitting on top of and he surges forward. At first he's hesitant, he knows that he's supposed to stay with his fellow equine companions, but after one more sharp kick to the ribs he breaks away from the pack.

I feel his muscles flex beneath me and I scoot myself higher up onto his back. I've still got my hands tangled in his pale white mane. His legs become a blur beneath his body and he's soon catching up with the D1 chariot. Flinging one hand outward I wave to the crowd.

They scream my name and leap with utter delight. Nothing like this has ever been done. They've just witnessed the show of a lifetime. They chant "Monique, Monique, Monique!"

My smile spreads wide across my face and I throw my head and my hands back as if I'm already accepting praise for winning the games. It doesn't matter now. If I win or die, I will always be remembered.

The wind whips the hair across my face, and the sun warms my skin. I push the horse under me to move faster, and he astonishes me with a final burst of incredible speed. We race alongside the D1 chariot and the tributes glare at me with contempt. I wave at them and blow a kiss at the boy. He narrows his brows angrily and flips me off, yelling obscenities. Shrugging mentally, I kick my horse even harder and he blows past my competitors.

I'm now in the lead. Everyone is watching me. I pump my fist in the air and grin victoriously. I've already won.

_**-Phoebe Taylor D7-**_

I'm still shocked by the act of the D5 girl. I think her name is Monique? Frowning in defeat I simply keep waving and try to give Panem my most genuine smile. What more can I do? Surely nothing can compare to Monique's act of bravery. Is there even any point in waving anymore? Will they even bother to look?

I glance at Forrest, he seems to be thinking the same thing I am. He just waves like me, but I doubt even if he had any ideas to gain sponsors that he'd actually use them. I get the feeling he doesn't like the Capitol very much.

At this moment my thoughts are drawn to the arena. What will happen to me? How will I manage to defend myself? I've never handled any kind of weapon before... and all my fellow tributes seem so able. Even if Forrest has never trained or fought- at least he knows how to use an axe and has his extreme physical strength. Breifly I wonder if he has considered asking me to become his ally. Probably not. I doubt he will trust anyone enough to gain allies during the games. He's been nice though. Forrest hasn't said anything belittling or degrading to me, or about anyone else for that matter. He's been nothing but respectful the entire time. It's ironic because he's such a large and intimidating guy.

Biting my lower lip I continue my pathetic queen wave. At least we look nice. Forrest's stylists dressed him in the typical lumber jack costume, and he pulls it off excedingly well. However, I'm dressed as a carpenter. The costume suggests I'm some type of sculpting artist. My skin is sprinkled with a light layer of sparkling dust and I have on a tight, short, apron-like dress. The outfit suits me I suppose, but I have to admit that the length of the skirt made me cringe; since there was barely any to begin with.

The buildings of the Capitol blur past us as our horses thunder down the streets. The people continue screaming and yelling- I'm flabbergasted that none of them have lost a pair of lungs. What am I saying? They probably have back ups waiting at home.

We continue our journey through the fanatical city and the sun begins to sink low in the sky. My breathing becomes rapid. One less day. One less day of ensured survival- one day closer to the Games.

I squint as the last rays of the sun bounce off the shiny Skyscrapers and penetrate my eyes. My whole body freezes when I see him. He's standing on a balcony looking down on us. It's our president. I realize this must be a nightmare. After all, where else do monsters exsist but in one's dreams?

_**-Laveda Sodaet D10-**_

My arms are shaking with the strain of having to hold onto the edge of the Chariot for so long. My fingers ache, and begged to be stretched outward, but I must not let go. If I do I could fall. Next to me Zach looks as cocky and confident as ever. Geesh. I would roll my eyes if I was brave enough to open them for a second or two. He has an ego bigger than my own, which is really saying something.

I feel a hand tap my shoulder. Peeking upwards I see his grinning like a fox. He's pointing at all the ladies and winking and wiggling his brows.

"Man whore." I say a little too loudly.

"What?" He yells. I just shake my head and screw my eyes shut again. "You look like a little kid when you do that."

My lids shoot apart as I get ready to make some smart comment in my defense, "I am a little kid you butt hole!"

He stops mid thumbs up to raise a brow at my name calling, then bursts out laughing, "Butt hole? I don't think I've been called a butt hole since I was about five years old!"

I narrow my eyes and lift a hand to wave tentively, "That's surprising." The wind batters my ears with hostility.

"What?"

Grunting, I shake my head, "Nothing!"

We continue down the streets of the Capitol at a rather unsettling speed. Then we pull in front of a almost normal looking building. This catches my eye rat off the bat. On the balcony stands a lean man with pepper colored hair. He's wearing a pin striped suit and is leaning casually against the railing. He waves every so often and when our chariot passes directly beneath him, an idea strikes me. Might as well brown nose someone, why not the President of Panem?

A bit childishly I thrust my hand into the air and wave enthusiastically at our leader. He seems a bit taken aback at first, but then gives me a small wave. In return I provide a loving, admirable smile.

Zack leans down and looks off in a different direction, as if he's not adressing me, "Kiss ass."

Grinning sneakily I elbow him in the ribs, "Like your one to talk Mr. Player. I've got bigger fish to fry."

Then our horses return to their normal speed and we soon find ourselves in the lowest level of the Training center. This is where we will stay for the next few days of our lives. They will feed us. They will clothe us. They will treat us like we're royalty. Then, they will throw us into an arean. And we will slaughter each other, for _their_ entertainment.

Many other chariots pass us as we dismount our own. I get many snide and dirty looks, but refuse to aknowledge them. Burgandy, my clingy escort, comes running up to me cheerfully. "Yay! You looked adorable!"

Rolling my eyes, she crushes me in a giant bear hug. I try to escape her grip, but she doesn't seem to notice. "Didn't she look just great you guys? You too Zack!" She skips over to him, with me trapped in a headlock, and throws an arms around his neck. Squishing our faces against hers she hugs us with even more ferocity. "OH! I"m just so happy you two are tributes!" Zack laughs and I scramble away from the crazy lady around the other side of the chariot where I can talk to my mentor. Morab is speaking with Brindle and they both grin widely when they see me.

"Good job, short stack." Morab smiles with pride.

"Thanks." I say sheepishly.

Brindle raises his brows, "I especially loved that last wave. _Very_, very nice touch."

Zack comes up behind me and puts his arm around my shoulders, "Yep. We did rather well. Although, I have to say, that chick from..." His eyes squint as he thinks, "D5, was it? Anyway, she was incredible. I couldn't believe that. I mean, is it even allowed?"

My mentor grunts doubtfully, "Guess we'll see, huh?"

I nod. Even though I hated to, I had to agree with Zack. It was a clever stunt. By far one of the best the nation has ever seen. It will never be forgotten. Clenching my fists I feel a sensation of jealousy swell inside my belly. Why didn't I think of something like that? Ah, heck. It doesn't even matter. I was so frozen with fear I wouldn't have been able to do it anyway.

After a few moments of conversation, Zack and I are swarmed by our prep teams. They begin to remove some of our clothing articles and usher us towards the elevators. I breath a sigh of relief as we venture up to the tenth floor.

I can't wait util the games. At least then I won't have to worry about impressing anyone.

_**-Erik Traub D6-**_

Our horses slide into a smooth stop as we find our place to dismount within the bottom of the training center. It's at this time that I am allowed to study my fellow tributes without being too distracted. They all seem worn out and mentally drained. Their movements are sluggish. Good. I'm not the only one who is completely spent.

Maia stretches lazily and pops her back. She's not very talkative, not at all. I can't blame her though, she's just trying to keep a low profile. She doesn't want me or anyone else to gain her trust.

Our prep teams, stylists, mentors and escort are all waiting for us at the elevators. They congratulate us on not falling off and commend Maia for her insane act of courage. How much courage does it take to flip a whole bunch of people the bird when you're already pissed? I'm not sure, but anyway, it couldn't have been that hard to do.

On the ride up to the sixth floor we watch the lower level of the training center dissapear beneath us. The elevator is made completely out of crystal, so we can see everything going on below, including our fellow tributes climbing into their own elevators. I gulp at the sight of them. Some I could see myself partnering with in the arena, others... well lets just say I'd try my best to stay as far away as possible.

Each district is assigned an entire floor. We get our own rooms, a lounging area, balconies, a kitchen (even though all we have to do for food is press a button and whisper into a mic what ever it is we happen to be craving) and bathrooms. I have an entire wing to myself; it's bigger than my own house. Inside my bathroom I strip off all my clothing and turn on the shower. It takes half an hour to wash the tattoos off my skin. My prep team had offered to help, but I insisted that I do it myself. The day had been traumatic enough, no need to make it worse by stripping for a bunch of people again. Bently thought it was cute of me to be so modest; that small comment alone made my skin crawl.

After I've scrubbed I don't know how many layers of skin off, I soak in the tub for a while. My eyes close and my head fills with thoughts of my family. My dad, my injured mom, and my little brother. What were they doing right now? Were they crying over me? Were they praying? That last one isn't likely, we don't really believe in that kind of thing. I miss them so much that my head actually hurts.

I don't know how long I was in that bath, but it had to have been a while because an Avox came to the door to ask if I was allright and to inform me dinner would be served within the next ten minutes.

Hurridly I dried myself off and raked a towel over my hair. Throwing on a simple red shirt and a pair of plain black pants, I arrive in the dining room right as the first course is being set on the table. I'm greeted with warm smiles and small waves.

Everyone is chatting away about today's events and I try to catch up with all the conversations. My mentor, Ven, addresses me with praise. "It was geniuine, your smile. I'm glad you were able to project that during the race."

I nod and pick at my food. I hadn't done anything very special, and now I was regretting it. People would look at Maia, they'd see how crazy and and brave she was. Sponsors would look at the girl who hopped onto a horse and broke away from her own chariot. No one would bother with me.

Ven, noting my slight depression, pats my hand gently, "You did fine. And if you're worried about sponsors, then don't be. There's still the training. I'm sure you've got some hidden talent under there that's going blow their minds. We'll talk about it okay? And there's still the interviews too. Don't forget about that."

Forcing a small smile I hang my head a little, "Yep. I'm sure everthing will work out."

Dinner was a complete drag. Usually food is one of my best friends, but currently everything I laid my eyes on made me want to hurl. My stomach was doing flips inside of me, and every time I thought about tomorrow, I had to set my fork down and control my breathing. Tomorrow I'd come face to face with my fellow tributes for training. What would I do? What would they be like? So many questions, but no answers. I came from a district where finding the answers was what we did for a living, I can't stand not knowing. And that's the worst part- not knowing. I could handle the idea of the arena, the people, and the fighting, but I couldn't handle not knowing what would become of me. _This is what made me sick. _

**A/N: Well, there you have it! The chariot race is over with! Next up: training! The twelve tributes that didn't get a chance to show up in the race will be in the next two chapters (which is the training). PLEASE VOTE ON THE POLL! I would really appreciate it, it's on my profile! Btw, sorry this chapter is shorter than the last- with it being Thanksgiving Break I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to get out during the week. Guys- we are soo close to the games and I can't wait! XD I picked out the arena already and it is going to be EPIC! You guys are gonna be like "Whaaaat? Where does this genius of yours come from?" HEHAHAHEHA! Have an great holiday yall! **


	21. Training: Day One

POVs in this chapter:

Ray Archer

Iris Bloom

Antherton Desby

Claire De Leon

Forrest Clark

Starr Delby

**Training- Day One**

_**-Ray Archer D4-**_

_It's everywhere. On the ground, in my eyes, on my hands. It has mixed with the air like a fine sheet of misty rain. I breath it in only to cough it up out of my lungs. Clutching my stomach, on my knees. Hacking. Blood. The world is blood. My life is blood. _

_Somewhere close I can hear water tumbling furiously over a bed of rocks. I must get to it. Quickly. Crawling at a painfully slow pace towards the sound, my fingers are soon sinking into soft earth. I can't see anything, but I know I am close. So close to salvation. Water is the only thing I know. The only thing I've ever had that's good and pure. _

_I keep moving; dragging myself forward until I feel warm water lapping at my elbows. I let myself fall into the stream, trying to clean my face and arms. Why does that make it worse? I feel sticky... and this water smells like metal and tastes like... blood. My eyes shoot open. I'm in a pool of blood. I'm practically bathing in it. Scrambling back, away from the polluted source I'm appalled to find that no matter how far I go, I can't escape it._

_I trip over myself multiple times. Finally, I get good footing and manage to stand. I rub at my eyes until they start to hurt. Ripping off my shirt I dry my face. God, it stings, but at least I can see now. However, what I open my eyes to would make a blind man feel blessed for no vision. The small stream has grown; grown into a sea of blood. It gathers at my thighs and then pulls away- repeating the process over and over again. The level is rising. I must find a way out. _

_I start to run, or wade rather, but to what? There's nothing. Nothing but a world of blood. I feel a sharp, stinging pang on the back of my neck- like a wasp has suddenly decided to release its fury upon me. Smacking at the feeling I draw back my hand to see a little dot of black ash in my palm. Ash. Fire. _

_Looking around frantically I notice that it has begun to rain ashes and sparks. Pretty soon the ocean of blood has caught on fire. It's all around me. Roaring in my ears, beating at my skin, it singes my hair. A rising body of blood, and a sea of fire. Lord, the smell is awful. Ducking below the surface to avoid the flames, I accidentally swallow a mouthful of the red liquid. I begin to cough. I start to flail. I should know better than anyone that's the wrong thing to do in this type of situation. Always stay calm. But I can't, because I can't swim. It's too thick. God, where did all this even come from? A small voice inside my head whispers that I already know. That I've known all along. There's so much blood on my hands. _

_I've lost my life by winning the Hunger Games._

And then I wake up. My chest is heaving, and I'm covered in sweat. Throwing the covers off of me I stumble clumsily through my dimly lit room into the bathroom. I flip the light switch on and lean over the porcelain toilet... then puke up last night's dinner. I grip the sides on the bowl as my stomach empties its contents. The sensation scolds my esophagus. The acid seems to turn to liquid molten as it surges its way through my throat. Ugh. Too similar to my dream. I shudder, my nightmare.

I sit there for a while until my breathing has returned to its normal speed, then lay on my side and rest my head on the cool tile floor. What was all that about? The games haven't even started yet, and I already have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Jeez. Closing my eyes I try to think of good memories to forget the dream.

My dad. What is he doing right now? The boat. It always seemed more like a home to me, not that dilapidated house we slept in at night. The coral reefs about a mile off shore. I wonder if that killer whale was still hanging around? I hope people stopped feeding him, I didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

My ears twitch when I hear an audible inhaling sound only a few feet away from me. Instantly I twist into a half sitting position and face the perpetrator. It's an avox. He literally jumps back about ten feet when I come up off the floor. He has a hand over his mouth and his eyes are wide like he's just seen a ghost. I frown at the boy. What's wrong with him?

He looks shocked, but regains his composure after a couple of moments. Watching warily he holds out his arms towards me. My brow creases in confusion, "Um,... thanks, but I don't really need a hug."

His eyes bug open for a minute, and I think he might actually laugh until I remember he's physically incapable of the action. Shaking his head humorously he holds up a finger. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a small notepad and a tiny pen. He scribbles on it rapidly then rips off the top sheet of paper and holds it out to me.

I reach over and take it from him doubtfully. God, he'd better not ask me anything weird.

_"Do you need medicine?"_

I laugh at the question. Kid, you have no idea how much I need.

Glancing up at him I shake my head, "Nope. Just queasy. I'm not used to eating as much food as I did last night." I pat my mid-section in good humor, "Stomach's kind of small, I over did it by a bit."

He nods knowingly and scribbles on another note then hands it over.

_"I am sorry for the intrusion. I was cleaning your room and I came in here to clean your bathroom. I thought you had left for breakfast." _

My eyes shoot open, "Oh crap!" As politely as possible I shoo the servant out of my bedroom for some privacy. I jump in the shower and try to clean myself as quickly as possible, and then rummage through my drawers while also brushing my teeth. Throwing on a pair of black exercise shorts and a dark blue shirt I chuck the tooth brush into the bathroom sink and spit. I don't even have time to rinse. Hurriedly I slip on a pair of socks and the shoes my dad had given me before I left.

I run out of the room and nearly knock down the avox who had found me lying on the floor. I give him a quick handshake and thank him for his help, then sprint through the numerous halls and rooms toward the dining area. Everyone is already eating when I arrive.

My cheeks heat in embarrassment as I find a seat next to my mentor. I never dried my hair, and the water from the shower is trailing down my neck into my shirt.

"Well, get your beauty sleep?" Icarus asks lightly.

I almost snort at him, "Quite the opposite actually." I pile a helping of eggs, ham, and vegetables onto my plate and begin to wolf it down quickly.

My mentor, Grabel, smiles at me in amusement, "You don't have to eat so fast. We've still got about half an hour before training starts."

Relief floods through me. "Oh, good." At least I can enjoy my meal.

Dyner pushes away from the table and glances at Hazel. "Come on, we need to talk about training." Then turns and addresses us, "We will leave you two so you can discuss the matter in private as well."

Grabel thanks her and she nods curtly. Once both females have left the room my mentor cracks a huge smile and rolls his eyes, "That woman is so serious. I swear. She'd die before she'd laugh at a good joke."

Forcing a smile I turn my attention to my food and find I've suddenly lost my appetite. I'm like a cow to the Capitol. Fatten him up, get him ready for slaughter. Grimly I place my fork down.

I see Grabel watching me out of the corner of my eye. "Gotta eat. Eat as much as you can. Get some protein in you. It'll do ya good in the arena."

The arena. What would it be like? Jungle? Desert? A sea of blood... No matter the environment, it would certainly be a sea of blood by the time we were through with it.

"So, about the training. What can you do? Anything special?"

I gulp and resituate myself in my chair, "I can fish?"

He laughs, "Is that a question or the truth?"

Clearing my throat, I cross my arms over my chest, "Truth. I know- it sounds bad."

Grabel shakes his head, "No. Any survival skill you have sounds great to me. Especially one being you can catch your own food. And I'm guessing that since you can catch fish, you can also build traps? And it would be incredible luck for us if you've handled a spear or blade."

I nod, "Of course. My dad taught me to fish using a spear in shallow water. It was just for fun, not really meant to be a lesson on how to fight someone using a pointy stick."

"Really?" Grabel cocks his brows, "Tell me, did your old man teach you how to use anything else? Any other kind of other blades or weapons?"

I try to think back on all our small 'adventures' and camping trips, "Well, I know how to gut a fish, and yes, I do know how to build traps. I know some basic medical attention skills that he taught me. I know how to make and use a net."

He looks thoughtful for a moment, "Did your dad ever teach you any fighting techniques?"

It almost surprises me when I realize that he had, "Well, sort of, but they weren't anything real extravagant. Just some dry defense skills, not so much anything about taking the offense."

Grabel smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle, "Sounds to me like your dad wasn't just teaching you how to fish."

I run a hand through my short, dark hair and instantly pull it away. Still soaked. "I don't see how any of this can really help. I don't know how to use a weapon against anyone. If I was going up against a career I don't think I could defend myself very well."

"Tell you what." He leans forward and folds his hands up, "Today in training, I want you to focus on the things you can't do. Then tomorrow, you can hone your skills with weapons. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't see you running with a career pack." I shake my head, no way. "That's what I thought. So you're going to have to figure out some survival skills. Such as building shelters, building fires, learn about plants, how to eat when you're in the wild, staying warm. All that stuff you need to learn on the first day. And really pound it into that brain of yours. Do the best you can to take in all that information so you can use it in the games. And don't worry about the things you already know. That stuff will come in handy in the arena, trust me. You're better off than most people."

We finished up planning out my training strategy and by 9:45, we made our descent down the tower into the training center.

_**-Iris Bloom D12- **_

"Iris Bloom?"

I step forward so a Peacekeeper can pin a number to my shirt. I have to bite my lip to keep from growling at the woman- I don't like Capitolites getting so close to me.

Her eyes are half open and she sort of pushes me off to the side when she's done. I feel a faint snarl ripple in my chest, but Daryl grabs me by the elbow and tows me away before I can make any kind of scene.

I soon forget about the guard though, because I'm overwhelmed by the massive training area. It's huge! And filled with weapons. Officials stand patiently at stations while we are being debriefed by Alta, the head trainer.

"Good morning tributes, I'm glad to see you're all here and ready to go."

I barely hear her as she talks to us about the varying stations available to train at. I'm too busy studying my fellow tributes. I receive a few dirty looks that I barely acknowledge. D1 is typical- two powerful careers (the male is actually very massive) standing erect with their arms crossed over their chests. D3 isn't a surprise either, although the girl doesn't look like she'd go down too easily in a fight. D5 catches my eye, one reason being because the female pulled that outrageous stunt during the chariot race, and the other being the boy is so ill looking.

I notice everyone is beginning to spread out, including my own partner. Huh, she must have finished her speech pretty quickly. For a moment I'm torn about whether to stay with him or not. Eventually I decide against training alongside him. I needed to get used to being separated from him anyway.

The first place I go is to the weapons. I don't want the careers to let them think they can intimidate me. According to the rules, you're not supposed to spar or fight with other tributes during training- but that doesn't keep anyone from giving death glares and saying insulting things.

My eyes scan the wide and seemingly never ending collection of blades. Almost immediately my gaze stops when it hits a beautiful, sleek, compact crossbow. It's hanging on the wall, it's silver form reflecting all the light. My mouth goes a little dry at the sight. My fingers itch to pick up the weapon and run off with it. God, I need that.

I notice someone shadowing me off to the left, and I avert my eyes. Reluctantly I pick up a small knife and throw it up and down in my palm. Trying to ignore the person that's slowly moving closer to me. Who is it? Ah, what the hell am I doing pretending he's not there? Cocking a brow threateningly I raise my chin high and look up to find myself staring at the lower part of someone's chest. Quickly I stagger back away from the D1 male tribute. He's grinning evilly and takes a glance at the wall. The bow.

My grip tightens on the tiny dagger; I don't have to look to know my knuckles have turned white. Gritting my teeth I stare as he leans over a bin of weapons and hefts the weapon, _my_ weapon, off of its rack. How. Dare. He.

He holds it up and admires it. I think he's mocking me. Absently I feel my other hand reaching for a second weapon. He eyes me curiously, "This is nice. You ever shoot one before?"

My eyes blink once. I think about telling him to hand it over to me and let me show him what I can do with a crossbow- but think better of it. Narrowing my brows and lowering my head I grind my teeth together. I say nothing.

"Are you mute or something? Probably are. On your way to becoming an Avox, huh?" He looks down at the weapon and laughs, "What, you think you could be like the Katniss Everdeen or something?" He looks back at me, "News for you- you're too short." The boy laughs like it's the funniest joke ever told.

Just go away. Save this for the games, I think with venom.

"You probably couldn't even hold this up, much less shoo-" I turn my back and walk away.

My breathing is out of control. My heart is thundering. Why did he have to do that? One thing is for sure, if he keeps this up for the next few days then I'll make sure that he pays for it in the arena.

I chuck the small weapon I had been holding into a spare bin, saunter over to a different weapons training station- one that's not completely full- and go up to a trainer. He's tall, and lean, and looks surprised to see me.

"Uh, want see what ya got?" He tosses a large throwing dagger into the air and catches it by the blade.

Smiling I hold out my hand and he places it in my palm. He shows me how to stand and aim the weapon, and then steers me over to the other tributes that are practicing on dummies. Their trainers look amused and stop to watch the show. What do I do? Should I hide my skills? Should I show them everything I have?

I decide to meet somewhere in the middle. Cocking my arm back I use as much wrist action as possible, and after a few moments of taking aim, throw the blade full force. It sticks right in the middle of the dummies face. My hand instantly covers my mouth. Crap. I didn't mean to do that good. I look over at my trainer whose mouth is gaping wide open.

"Good Lord!" He looks down at me and beams, "That was amazing! Want to try again?"

I nod, this time I'll have to do better. He scampers off to collect another knife and pry the one I threw out of the target. Glancing sideways, I notice the other tributes are glaring, or staring. One happens to be Monique. Yeah, I think that's her name. She gives me a very dirty look and goes back to her practicing. She's very good. Almost as good as I am, I think a bit smugly.

The other two are boys; they simply shrug it off- as if it was beginners luck. I can't help but smile at my small achievement.

The trainer comes back with a basketful of knives. Guess he plans on me being here for some time. While I humored him, and tested out all the blades, I made sure to die down on the bull's-eye aiming. I'd hit the dummies in the shoulder, or leg- which was fine with him. He seemed to understand my motives though. He didn't push me or ask for any more than I was willing to give.

By the time I left that station I was eager to try out something else. Maybe something less weapon oriented.

I soon found myself at a survival station. There was only one guy here, and he had pictures and a type of power point set up. He simply talked and nothing more, but it was useful, so I took a seat. There's three portable walls put up around this area, and it's toward the back. I'm guessing it's because they need some dim lighting for the screen.

Grinning proudly he came over to me, "Good morning."

I nodded and smiled back, "Indeed it is."

Sticking out a hand he introduced himself; most trainers didn't bother with formality, so I think it's safe to guess this guy didn't get very many visitors. It wasn't hands on, so most tributes didn't bother with it. Although I already knew a lot of stuff from hunting with my father, I figured it'd be good for me to learn about more extreme environments.

He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and smiles, "So, I'll be beginning the presentation in a few minutes." He checks his watch, "It's almost 10:30. We'll start then."

Nodding I prop my feet up on a chair in front of me. He gives me a clip board and a sheet of paper. I must look at them in a funny way, because he laughs, "For taking notes. You can leave them here when the power point is over. I'll hold them for you so you don't have to carry them around all day and make sure they get to you before you leave."

"Oh, thank you." I say politely.

Luckily he waited, because two more tributes showed up. A very good looking boy, I think I heard him say his name was Ray, and then a girl, Hazel, came in. The boy nodded at me with respect as he passed. Respect? The motion surprised me, and I decided I liked him right away. He wasn't a total jerk- but he wasn't a brown noser. He sat down a few chairs away, just like the girl did. She seemed nice enough. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to make allies with either one of them. Especially the guy, he struck me as the type of person that wouldn't stab me in the back the moment I turned around. Ray also looked like the type of person who'd be good in a fight. I'm sure Hazel had a couple of tricks hidden up her sleeves as well.

I don't think the 'trainer' could have been happier. He was practically giddy with excitement. After introducing us to a few plants and letting us handle some of the more dangerous ones- just so we were a little more familiar with them- he darkened the room further and started his little visual show. It consisted of very useful information that I actually did end up taking notes over. He talked throughout the whole presentation and pointed out certain things, informing us how to tell different plants apart by touch, taste, sight and smell. We also learned about how to survive extreme weather, how to stay warm or cool, and how to find water in even the driest of places.

After his picture show was through he talked a little more about plant life and survival in general. I was genuinely interested in what he had to say, but still- I decided that just sitting there simply wasn't for me. So when the session finally ended, I was happy to move on.

I suppose that at this point I didn't have much of a strategy for the training, I'd have to make better plans for tomorrow.

For the better part of the day I just did whatever appealed to me. I learned how to tie knots (another station that wasn't often occupied), I bumped into Daryl later on and we trained alongside each other while in a spear throwing class- which neither of us turned out to be very good at.

I also went to a climbing class, and while there discovered that in another life I could have been friends with the Hazel girl, the one I'd first met about an hour ago. Turns out she was only 15, which kind of surprised me. She looked somehow more mature than that. And she was one heck of a climber, perhaps better than me. If I had to compare her to an animal I would say she was a squirrel because of the way she 'scurried' up a tree. Although we never really talked- I think we raced each other a couple of times. I had to leave though; she was starting to get to me. I didn't need to make any friends, or feel sorry for anyone. I couldn't let that get in the way during the games, when it was time to kill.

_**-Antherton Desby D1-**_

Damn all these people. Why are they even here? They're all puny and weak. Very few of them can actually fight, and even fewer possess the brains to compensate. I twirl a heavy sword in my hand, playing with its weight. I could pretty much use any weapon, the question was which one? Ah, it didn't matter. I could decide after taking the Cornucopia. That was another thing I had to do- make alliances.

I grimace just thinking about it. Most of the people here aren't up to my standards physically speaking. It was more than likely I would end up partnering with Lorraine, but the bitch was pretty annoying, so I don't know how well I could control my urges to kill around her. That girl from district five though, I like her. Even if she did upstage me, I want her on my side. And that guy from 7. He is really the only person out of this whole group who might stand a slim chance against me in hand to hand combat. So he was either going to join the group, or be on my list of 'which tributes to kill first'.

Tossing the sword into a bin I walk away from the wall of weapons and over to a fighting tactics class. Alta herself is the trainer of this this class. I walked into a circle of tributes gathered around the woman, and even though they could see me they chose to ignore me. There were about 8 tributes listening to her lecture, most were guys, but there were a few girls. One of which was a particularly small girl. I wanted to laugh at the sight of her; she looked like she was about twelve. What the Hell was she doing at this station?

"Hand to hand combat is like the way a person writes- no one does it the exact same way as another. Some people-" She points at me, and I can't help but smirk, "Have a larger muscle mass, thus making them more physically able." She moves over to the little girl and places a hand on the tiny tribute's shoulder, "And then others are smaller. Their weight and height allows them to move quickly and provides them with incredible bouts of speed."

The tiny brunette cocks a brow at me and I narrow my brows threateningly. Careful girly, I'm not completely against strangling small children. Even though the fear in her eyes is evident, she averts her gaze and lifts her chin a bit higher. I shake my head; man the younger tributes this year sure have some fire in them.

Alta claps her hands together and takes a step back, "This station will allow you a chance to see what it's like to fight another person using nothing but your bare hands and a bit of elbow grease. Depending on your size and strategy, I suggest you practice either a blocking tactic- which would be more along the lines of playing on defense, or a striking tactic- which would mean you plan on taking the offense more often than not during the actual games. There are training dummies standing by, and live sparing partners in case a dummy isn't enough or doesn't apply to the type of training you wish to complete here." She narrows her eyes dangerously, "You may not, and I repeat, MAY NOT spar with fellow tributes."

And then she walked away, not even bothering to tell us what the consequences were. Cracking my knuckles together I walk up to their training dummy, there was no way I could practice my best move on a real person.

I played around at first, figuring out the best angle to land my real blow, but even just my practicing was drawing a crowd. People watched curiously as I dance lightly on my feet like a boxer. I do a few fake outs and then decide to show everyone what they'll be seeing in the arena- my famous right hook.

I caught the dummy right below the left ear. The sound of busting plastic reverberated throughout the entire room. Grinning like a mad man I watched as the neck cracks and the head teeters back and forth then rolls off the dummies shoulders and falls to the floor, hitting the dark tile with a resounding thud.

I look around to see that practically all eyes in the center are trained on me. That's right, observe and admire. Everyone knows who to watch out for during the games. Glancing up into the stands I spot the Gamemakers staring at me with smug satisfaction. I give them a thumbs up and saunter off to find a sparring partner, needless to say the guy I choose isn't exactly ecstatic about the idea.

By the time I'm through with showing off, I decide to take a spear throwing class. There are a couple of other guys there, I think it's the one from 2 and the other from 11. Neither acknowledges me when I show up. What's with that? Are people just too scared?

I need to start figuring people out so I can make allies.

Strutting up towards a silver rack I pry a spear off the wall and stand off to the side, watching the other two guys throw. They actually weren't bad. I mean, you could tell that neither had ever handled a spear before, but they were doing well for being so inexperienced.

After observing them for a few minutes I noticed the one from 11 tense. Finally, without looking, he addressed me, "What the Hell are you looking at?"

I feel my brows crease at his funny accent, "Not sure. I know it's not a good display of spear throwing though."

His shoulders hunch further and he spins on his heel to face me, "How would you like to take the place of that dummy and see what you think of my aim then?"

From the corner of my eye I see the D2 guy smirking. Yeah, you're going to think its real funny til we're out there in the arena.

My blood starts to pump a little faster at the idea of a challenge, but before I can say anything a trainer steps up to us.

"Is there a problem here?"

D11 narrows his eyes and I take note of his grip tightening on his spear. Laughing, I turn and walk away- nothing that a good right hook can't fix.

Well, I guess it's obvious that I wasn't going to be the one to put together a group. I tried to study and decode everyone, but I just ended up getting distracted and a huge ass headache. If a career pack was formed they'd have to come to me. I'm tired of fishing for allies.

_**-Claire De Leon D3-**_

Lunch time. They bring in large carts piled with food. Of course the careers are the first ones to serve themselves, and then the select few brave tributes from lower districts manage to squeeze in. To tell you the truth I'm not all that hungry, so I wait until the 'pigs' have cleared the field to grab something.

As I'm gathering grapes, slices of apples and oranges, and other fruits onto my plate I peek through my dark lashes at the tributes around me. They're the weaker willed ones. I assume that's how I must look though, letting the Careers have their way without putting up a fight, so I can't judge. But the difference between them and me is I'm not afraid; I'm simply not in the mood to mess with anyone. Not yet. I just want to focus on what little training I receive before the games.

I take my silver plate which is weighed down with healthy snacks and find a place to sit on the floor far from the other tributes. I don't need or want to be near any of them. I notice most of them eat by themselves, while others are already forming little groups. I don't know their names, no one knows names yet. You're D2 female, or D5 male. The two small girls of this year's group were sitting together talking, D12 and D10. Huh. Not surprising. They'd make quite the little team if they became allies. D1 girl, D5 girl and D2 girl were also huddled in their own small gathering. Looks like they're starting the games early. Talk about a career pack. Girls were always more prone to making allies early on though. Some people say it's a clingy thing that only females do, others say it's smart. The rest of the tributes eat with their district partners or by themselves.

Why am I not with Newt? Neither of us have the same idea for how we want to play this game. I'm not sure I want an ally yet- I can't put my life in the hands of a total stranger. That's why so many district partners pair up in the games. They're familiar with each other. But I'm not stupid, I know Newt is capable of more than he lets on. And I 'know' as much about him as I do any of my other fellow gamers- which is zip. He could be anybody. He could be one of those huuuge nerds that turn out to be insane. Like a crazy scientist or something. The more I let myself think about it, the more paranoid I got.

Popping a green grape into my mouth I munch thoughtfully. I just can't do it. Not unless someone can gain my trust. To do that they'd first have to save my life (not just be nice to me, like Newt) - and in this game, getting saved by someone is about as likely as sprouting wings. Everyone is your enemy, everyone wants to kill you. If they don't, then they're as good as dead themselves.

I finish my meal quickly, and before I leave I grab a bottle of red liquid off one of the refreshment carts. As I'm twisting the cap off it somehow slips away from my fingers and hits the floor. It bounces a couple of times and rolls off. Great. I watch glumly as it thumps against someone's foot and stops. Nice shoes, I think to myself absently. I raise my gaze to meet a sea green one. D4 boy. I don't have to guess because blue-green eyes are the signature physical feature of District Four. Plus he's tan.

He looks down at the cap and bends over to pick it up. He tosses it underhanded to me and I catch the small thing with ease. I feel my mouth pull down into a slight frown; I don't know why. Maybe I'm mad that he's being nice... or maybe I'm angry with myself for thinking he's cute. I give a curt nod to him in thanks. He presses his lips together, runs a hand through his hair, gives me a small wave and walks away.

You see? What was that? I can never tell. Was D4 boy being sincere? Or was he kissing up? I stare at the cap in my palm, and take a swig from the bottle. It's a delicious drink. Like strawberries and sugar in liquid form. I finish it off and chuck the bottle into a trash can. Doubtfully I glance at the bottle cap one last time. I've seen it a couple times in the games. Handsome boy, lonely girl. What does lonely girl do? Fall for handsome boy. What does handsome boy do to lonely girl? Gain her trust, and stab her in the back; literally.

I trash the bottle cap. Geez, I'm getting paranoid.

Scowling I make my way to a medical class. There's a couple of people there, one being D6 boy and the other D7 girl. The head trainer is a man, he's withered and old but in a wise way, not a 'I could drop dead any second' way.

I learn the boy is Erik and that the girl is Phoebe- I like them both. They're quiet, and sensible.

"So, while you're out in the arena, it's safe to assume- if anything- you'll receive at least minor injuries." He leans against a polished silver counter and folds his arms across his chest. "Any of you kids ever tended to an injury?"

"I sucked my finger when I cut it a couple days back, does that count?"

I grin at the boy's light sarcasm; from the corner of my eye I see Phoebe smiling too.

"Yes, actually it does. Anything that you do to staunch bleeding be it for a minor injury or a major."

I take in a deep breath and do my best to pay attention, but my mind wanders away from the lesson eventually. I think about the arena, the fighting, the people. The kids I'll have to kill. Is it worth it? My humanity is at stake. If I was able to win, could I even live with myself? I've heard that some past victors have killed themselves because they can't handle the nightmares... or the guilt. Would I be one of those people? I've never been known for backing down, but I've never been known as a killer either. What would happen to me if I took another's life? Would I go insane? Would I shut down, like my brother? He won't ever be the same- the games changed him... they tore him apart- from the inside.

"All anyone ever thinks about during the games- when it comes to medicine- is tending to wounds received by man-made weapons. Did you know most of the injuries obtained during the games are from the environment?"

It made sense I guess; every tribute was constantly surrounded by untamed animals and the harshest landscapes known to man. Not to mention mutts.

"In this part of the session I'll teach you how to use plants to effectively heal and soothe most wounds you will receive that don't come from a blade. I'll show you how to treat poisonous bites, festering wounds, and how to combat heat as well as the cold."

He told us many things, like to wear our heaviest clothing closest to our bodies in freezing weather- this way, if we got to hot, we would take off the lightest layers first. He told us to stuff leaves into our jackets if we happened to not have multiple articles of clothing. He taught us how to make weird cloaks for hot weather- so we wouldn't get burned by the sun. He showed us how to make ointments to treat burns and the best ways to treat different levels of frostbite. I took much knowledge from the class, and in the end I was extremely glad I went.

Afterwards I went to a fencing class. There I learned the advantages I have over people, and how to spot and use the weaknesses of my opponents. One move the trainer showed me was stuck in my head, and I couldn't quit thinking about it. He showed me how to sneak up on a person, slash their calves in half- cutting their tendons and virtually immobilizing them- then grab them by the hair, pull their head back, and slice their throat. A quick, easy kill. Efficient. The only question was, could I do it? So many kids come into these games thinking 'I'll just do the best I can, and hope I win'. That's not enough. You have to kill. If you want to win, then you have to want to kill.

_**-Forrest Clark D7**__**-**_

If this weren't the games I'd be laughing my ass off right now. The two smallest girls of the group have definitely become allies- now they're trying to 'recruit' me. Both are fiery bundles of fury, and together they're more stubborn than a million donkeys.

"Please! Won't you at least consider it?"

I sigh heavily, "Yeah, I'll consider it."

The blonde one frowns, "That didn't sound very convincing."

I chuckle, "Sorry. Just give me some time. Okay? This is the first day of training- by the time the games start you might not even want me. Are you even sure that you want to be allies with each other? I mean you're kind of rushing it aren't you?"

Iris smiles brightly, "Of course we want you in our group, and I don't think we're rushing it. We just like to be prepared."

Laveda cocks a brow, "Yeah, you know how hectic it's going to be when we get out in that arena? Everyone's going to be scrambling to get away. No one is going to know who to trust. It's going to be utter chaos. Why not make allies here and now where you can actually approach other people without the danger of getting your head chopped off? At least we've got a plan. It just won't work without a third person."

I watch her doubtfully, "I don't know. You guys are probably just teaming up so when the games start you can jump me. Is that your plan? Make an ally, kill him. Make another ally, kill that one."

Iris' mouth drops in mock horror, "Of course not!"

"_Riiight__." _Laveda winks at Iris and gives her a thumbs up.

Laughing at their little act I straighten up and cock my arm back as I notch an arrow across my bow, "You guys are a riot." I release the arrow and it flies straight past the target and into the wall behind it. I flinch as I hear a loud snapping sound.

Frowning I look down at Iris who's mouth is drawn up in a contemplative way. "What?" I ask.

She shakes her head, "It's nothing."

I smile, "You don't like my archery skills? See? Told you. Reconsidering me already, huh?"

Again she shakes her head, her yellow curls bounce around her face, "Nope. We still want you."

My shoulders sag, "Man, you guys are persistent. Alright, I give in a bit. What's this 'plan' of yours?"

Both girls grin a little evilly; Laveda is the one to speak first, "We can't tell you, it's a secret."

"Oh, I see." I walk off towards the sword section; they follow like a couple of lions tracking a wounded deer.

"Wait!" Iris grabs hold of my wrist, "We'll tell you if you become allies with us." Her blue eyes have gone wide as she looks up at me pleadingly. "Please? Just say yes."

I rub my forehead, and walk over to a rack complete with a diverse array of swords. I pick one that's pure black and slash a dummy with it. The two girls shadow me, waiting impatiently. Laveda finally rolls her eyes and grabs hold of Iris' arm, "Come on, obviously he's a career and we've told him enough."

I swing the sword around in arches, "I'm not a career."

Laveda struggles to pull Iris away, but the blonde stands her ground, "I know you aren't."

Closing my eyes, I rest the tip of the sword against the floor and lean forward on the hilt, "Do you guys plan on letting anyone else into this group?"

The corner of the brunette's mouth twitches, "Maybe. We're trying to figure that part out."

"So why do you want me? Why not sweet talk some career?"

Iris folds her arms across her chest, "There's no such thing as sweet talking a career. We want you because we don't want _them_ to have you."

I stare at both the girls. Little devils or angels? I couldn't tell yet. Did I want to do this? I couldn't imagine myself joining a career pack. What choice did I have? Besides, they seemed pretty eager about this plan.

Breathing in deeply, I run a hand through my hair. "Fine. I'm in." I finally say. Am I crazy?

Iris jumps up and down excitedly and Laveda beams, "Awesome!"

"But-" I hold up a finger, "You have to tell me what your grand idea is."

Laveda's eyes narrow, "Okay, but if you betray us- we will kill you."

My brows shoot up, "I'm not that type of person, but I'm going to tell you right now- this won't work if we can't trust each other. Okay? If I split from you guys, which eventually I will, I'll let you know before I do it."

"It's a deal, but you can't go to a career group." Laveda's brows couldn't furrow any farther.

I laugh, "I never planned on it."

Iris leans in animatedly, "Okay, we'll tell you our plan, but not until after the training. Kay? The most I can tell you is that this year the Careers aren't taking the Cornucopia. The Hunters are."

"Hunters?" I laughed, "What's that?"

"You'll see soon enough!" And without another word they were off.

_**-Starr Delby D2**__**-**_

I sat in my chair watching the presentation with earnest. The title was "Control Your Opponent". The trainer is teaching us how to manipulate, understand, and persuade other tributes to do things that we want them to. He also taught us how to self soothe; how to keep our cool in dangerous situations.

"The Hunger Games should be renamed The Mind Games- because that's what they're all about. Or at least you can make them that way." He walks around. "You see, people are at their most vulnerable when they're about to lose everything. That's the best time to take charge. The unfamiliarity of the situation will cause them to think erratically. They'll want someone to look up to, someone that will protect them, and even if they don't admit it- someone to tell them what to do. They'll fear their own instincts; they'll want someone who's powerful and calm to lead them." He circles back to the front of the room and stands before us, leaning back against a counter. "Most of you are here because you plan on leading a group. But that's just it- don't lead, control. You want to control every element you possibly can. Those who control- win."

I glance around. There are about eight people in the room all together, including one of my allies- Lorraine. She smirks at me and I turn my head away. She thinks she's in charge, but she's not. Monique will be. That I can already tell.

The trainer droned on about how to manipulate and how to think for others. He told us how to appear fearless. My favorite part- and what I considered most useful to be- consisted of how to tell when someone is lying to you. The first signs of betrayal.

Once the session was through with, Lorraine and I walked together out of the room. We had already established a Career pack; we were already receiving looks of disgust and admiration. I felt so powerful. I loved it. I loved control.

"Interesting." Lorraine said without any real interest at all.

I suppress an eye roll, "I thought it was; yes."

Before we can go much farther the head trainer, Alta, calls it a day, "Tributes. I liked what I saw today; keep it up. Tomorrow, try to work even harder. Eat a good dinner, and get some sleep. You're going to need it."

Monique runs up to us, grinning like a mad woman.

"Hey," I say with lacking enthusiasm.

She nods at me, "I think we should train together tomorrow. Let everyone know not to mess with us. What do ya think? It would make it all the more easy to take the Cornucopia."

Control, I think with a smirk. "Yeah, sounds like a good plan."

Lorraine looks a bit peeved at the idea of Monique telling us what to do, but I don't think she has any other strategy. "Sounds fine to me too, I guess."

"Cool." Then the girl from five waltzes off.

Rain crosses her arms over her chest and watches Monique disappear into an elevator. I notice her jaw clench.

"What?"

She blinks as if she has forgotten I was there; she seems to think about saying something, and then shakes her head, "Nothing."

I shrug, "Alright, if you say so."

We walk to the elevators together and part ways without a goodbye. We are not friends, just allies. And I don't want any formalities, hopefully it stays this way.

Zane and I have to ride in the same elevator. There's an awkward silence between us; I watch his back the whole time. Finally, he speaks,

"Guess you've started a group, huh?"

My mouth has gone dry; I have to clear my throat to speak. "I offered you a chance to join me. You declined."

He turns his head sideways to glance at me, "I never said I wouldn't make an alliance, I just said I needed time to think."

I cock a brow in surprise, "So what? Are you saying you want to join now?"

He faces the door again, "Nope."

"Whatever." I cross my arms and lean against the wall.

"Guess this means we're enemies now. Right?"

I thump my head against the wall, "Even if we were allies, we'd still be enemies."

He shrugs, "Guess so. I figured you'd be a Career."

I snort, "Well what did you expect, we're from Two."

His head goes down a bit, "I know."

I scowl, "Are you ashamed or something?"

"Aren't you?" He asks quietly.

The doors to the elevator fling open when we reach our floor and I walk swiftly past him. Jack ass.

That night we eat dinner without exchanging many words. Our mentors converse mildly about the games and our escort gushes about what we should wear for the interviews. I don't pay much attention to anyone. When it's time for bed, I dress in silk pajamas and rest my head on my pillow. I don't get under the sheets. I don't snuggle against the comforter. I simply lay my head down, close my eyes… and sleep. It will be one of last times I sleep so well, I'm sure of it.

**Authors Note: Yay! Tis finito! One more training chapter, then scores, and then interviews. The scores will be split into two chapters (twelve tributes will be in each chapter) and they will be short snippets of them doing something and then I will just give the score. Scores will be given not only according to strengths, but attitude and strategy. Some tributes might get a low score because their strategy is to hold back. The score will not affect the outcome of your tribute. So your tribute could get a five and still win. The interviews will be split up into twenty four different POVs as well (two chapters). Then the chapter after that… the games begin! We're getting so close! Remember to vote for your favorite tribute! I'm taking the poll down a couple days after I post this chapter. By the way, I haven't had internet for over three weeks (I have to use McDonalds free Wi-Fi in order to post this!) and that's why it has taken me so long to get this chapter up! Sorry! I'll jump right onto the next chapter. Thanks for your patience and remember to review! **


	22. Taining: Day Two

**Author's Note: I won't get internet again until after Christmas, that's why this chapter is a little late (and yes, I'm at McDonalds... again). Sorry about that! I hope you enjoy hearing from these characters. By the way, i'm putting up my new poll. Be sure to vote on it! Remember- someone will get thirty points! Merry Christmas Y'all!**

POVs in this Chapter:

Lorraine 'Rain' Lattanzi

Zach Crado

Kenya Roseheart

Nikolai Gregorovich

Natalie Catherine McCartney

Zack Thrasher

**Training- Day 2**

_**-Lorraine 'Rain' Lattanzi D1-**_

I hate them all. I've never met a more awful bunch of people in my life! If they're not conceited, then they're weak. It's one or the other; there's no in between. My own partner fits in a category of its own- the 'Evil Bastard' class. Speaking of the devil; I can hear his heavy footfalls all the way from here- in the dining room. Giant oaf. I wonder how he's doing without his drugs. There's absolutely no way in Hell he's that big without steroids. I mean, there is no _real_ rule against the use of drugs in the Hunger Games, but come on! Everyone has a set of basic morals!

My mentor, Jag, flashes me a grins when Antherton sits his laughable self down in a chair across from me. Our quiet quarrels amuse her and it's all she can do to refrain from chanting 'Fight, fight, fight!'. I stare at him pointedly while absently twirling my fork through a gelatinous mass of breakfast goop on my plate. He meets my gaze; glare for glare. I can tell how badly it pisses him off that he doesn't scare me one bit. Well, I suppose that's not the total truth; regardless, I wouldn't have him thinking any other way.

Starr, Monique and I discussed offering him a place among us, but it was two against one. The only thing that Monique and I have managed to agree on so far is that Antherton remain a lethal threat- and nothing more. Although I can see where Starr's coming from, she's uneducated in the ways of conduct of this socially modern version of a cave man. All she could see was muscle and a bad attitude. I saw murder and betrayal, as did Monique.

I break eye contact and return my gaze to my plate. Bored out of my mind, I sit there and push food around until 9:30 rolls by; then it's off to the training center.

Like yesterday, we're the first group down there. Not only is our district closest to the training center because it's on the first floor of the tower, but Careers are known for being more than 'rather punctual'. Quickly I split from my own district partner and wait for my allies.

I can't deny it; Monique gets under my skin. Just looking at her makes my flesh crawl and my hands shake. If I had a dollar for every time I've clenched my teeth around her so far- I'd have enough money to buy the entire nation. She's a show off, and a plain old Bitch. There's no wrong in calling a person what they are; no one can judge me for thoughts that are true. And a fake. A total and absolute fake.

Starr is a different person altogether. If I had to compare the girls to myself, I'd say that Monique is the mentally unstable version of me, and that Starr is the docile rendering of my present persona. At least I can actually stand to be around the goodie two shoes though. _And she is a goodie two shoes. _I'm somewhere in between the two girls as far as personalities go.

However, issues are already developing; they're small, but make no mistake that they are there nonetheless and will grow into something larger.

I notice the next batch of tributes comes in at a slightly greater amount. What do you know? Monique is here.

I watch with a bit of a sneer as she gets a number pinned to the back of her shirt. She glances around the center, and I can tell she's looking for me. When I see that her gaze starts to drift toward my general direction I lift my arm and wave. Not a 'Hello', but an 'Over here' kind of gesture. She spots me and appears to be irritated; maybe because I'm here first again?

Monique struts over to where I stand, and of course the few tributes she passes make sure to give her a wide berth.

For some reason, I can't help but feel proud about the fact that we're allies (even though I hate her). It's like we're the most powerful people, and we're proving it just standing near each other. I feel my shoulders lift and my posture straighten. My muscles clench and my molars grind together. We are the Careers. Everyone here knows that none of us will be among the first to die- we're fighters. Killing is what we're trained for.

When my annoying ally finally reaches my side she says nothing. I notice that Starr is mixed in with the third wave of tributes. When she's is through with getting her number pinned onto her, she strides toward us and completes our trio with her presence. I almost want to laugh at them. They're both wearing this super serious look on their faces; their brows are narrowed and their mouths are set firm. Do I look like that?

I cross my arms over my chest and feel my shoulders push back. We wait quietly for Alta to debrief us. She explains the available classes (the same as yesterday) and informs us that today is the last day to train. Tomorrow we will receive training scores; the thought sends my adrenaline pumping. We're getting so close now.

My foot begins to tap in anticipation, and my eyes skirt around the room, scoping out the perimeter. The rest of the tributes can't help but glance at us. They're afraid, or jealous.

Once Alta is done with her speech, we're released to continue our training. Here's the problem, with three of us together, we won't always agree on where to go… and Monique does the first thing of the day that pisses me off. The girl begins to walk away- _expecting _us to follow. Starr doesn't seem as irritated by the action as I am, but I stand my ground anyway. Monique somehow senses I haven't yet moved, and she turns to look at me. Her jaw clenches tight, and I'm sure catches my eyes glaze over with danger.

"What?" The question comes out as half demand, half inquiry.

I set my teeth together and ball up my fists at my sides, "You really don't think I'm just going to follow you around like a puppy, do you?"

She blinks with impatience, "Well it didn't look like you were going anywhere."

I can't help but advance toward her in a threatening way, then suddenly Starr has intervened. She stands erect between us, "Look guys, everybody is watching us. We can't let them think that our alliance has weakened already. How is that going to make us look? The games haven't even started yet!" She eyes me hopefully, "Besides, we can discuss leadership issues some other time. For now, let's just figure what we each want to do, and we can rock, paper, scissors for where we go first." She turns to address Monique, "Does that sound okay?"

Monique watches me with disgust, "Yeah, sure. Whatever.

Starr seems satisfied after I nod in agreement, and she steps aside. Monique is still glowering at me when she says, "You know, during the games, we won't always have time for child's play. When we're through with today, someone is walking away as leader. I don't care how we decide, but it'll benefit us all if we do."

_**-Zach Crado D8- **_

I swing with as much precision as I can muster, and strike a little too low at the dummy's throat. Instead of decapitating it, I've merely chopped half way through its neck. Fair enough, it'd be a kill in the arena. Another robotic dummy appears behind me and slashes at my back with a fake axe. I feel the dull blade slice at my spine. Damn. If that were real, then I'd be dead.

The trainer steps up, "You've just been killed." His voice is placid.

I want to say, 'Yeah, no dip Sherlock', but instead I just keep silent.

"Don't let it discourage you though. Chances are- if you're careful- you won't be fighting pairs. Just watch your back, if you kill one tribute, then it's likely he or she has an ally nearby. Always turn around after you've killed a tribute, you can already see everything in front of you, make sure there's nothing behind."

I nod and the next set of robotic dummies is pushed onto the mat. One is carrying a sword; the other one has two small knives. I ready my stance and when they're released to attack, one moves to my left side, and the other with sword stays in front of me. I move back as they both advance on me, and keep a wary eye on the one lingering beside me. The sword dummy lunges, and takes a swipe at me. I note that his aim is high, and drop to a knee and the soft plastic of his blade grazes my hair. I swing my sword at it and the things jumps back just before my weapon splits his kneecaps in half. The one with daggers springs forward and brings one knife up in a small arch, I bend back to avoid getting skewered.

The action of missing me throws the dummy off balance and it teeters as it pitches toward me once more. I take advantage of its instability and use my sword to swipe its legs out from under it. Once he's down I pounce and thrust my sword into its chest. Briefly I relish in my small victory, then remember that there's still one more to go.

I spin on my heels and search for the dummy. He's dead, with a dagger in him. The small knife is rammed up his chin into his head. But how? Then I notice a girl about my age standing there smiling expectantly. I don't know who she is, but I know she's from 11. I also know that I'm pissed. That was my bot to kill, not hers. I think she catches on that I'm peeved at her, because her grin fades and her eyes narrow slightly.

"Well your welcome," She sneers.

My trainer steps into the ring and puts a hand on her shoulder. "The benefit of having an ally." She blinks and looks up at him.

"Thanks, but I didn't need any help. I needed the experience," I say with malice.

"This is experience. Knowing what it's like to fight with someone on your side can work in your favor. Anyway, don't be mad at her, I told her to help you." He turns to leave and the girl throws me one last glare before following him off the mat.

Sighing heavily I watch as the destroyed bots are drug away to be fixed. I didn't want any allies, at least, not any that wouldn't be easy to kill later on in the games. People can judge all they want, but in the end everyone's out for number one. I don't care how old any tribute is or what gender they are. In fact, I don't even bother with details like that; I just see them as enemies and nothing more. Bodies to kill; that's what everyone is to me.

I decide to move on to a different class, and put the sword away in a rack. I take off all the training padding and lay it over a desk. While I'm there I see a couple of tributes getting ready to take the same class I just took. One is from 4 and the other from 6. They don't look like allies to me, just like there in the same place at the same time.

I end up in taking a swimming class, which goes horribly because I've never really swam before. There's not a lot of water in 8. By the time that's over with I'm absolutely exhausted, and decide to go to a trap making class. I actually might have enjoyed it if it wasn't just to prepare me for the Hunger Games. It's difficult to take delight in anything when it's about the Games.

The tributes there are the girl from 7, the boy from 9, and the boy from 12. I sit as far from them as I can and learn how to make a few of the simplest snares. They also teach us how to lure the animals into the traps, and how to skin them. The trainer tells us that practically any of these traps can be made larger and used on fellow tributes. The idea makes me chuckle, the thought that something used to ensnare a squirrel can also catch a person seems humorous for some odd reason.

Once I'm through with that I take a spear throwing class. It's easy enough, but I've always had good aim. The only issue is that some of the spears are heavy and I can't balance them as well as other larger tributes can. I find out that my best weapon ends up being the bow and arrow. It's light, easy to use, and fast- plus I can kill from farther away which is good because I'm not very physically powerful and don't have much experience in hand to hand combat.

At certain times throughout the day, I find that I'm shaking my head at myself. I just can't believe I'm thinking like this. About weapons, and about killing people. I mean, yeah, the Games were always a looming threat, but I'm 15; I only had three reaping's left and then I was free. I never thought I could get chosen, out of all the names in that bowl mine was the one to get pulled. Stupid fucking escort. Oh well, there's nothing I can do about it now. I just have to accept the truth- I'm in the Hunger Games. I have to kill in order to live. And there is no way in Hell that I'm going down without a fight- no matter who the tribute is. I will do whatever it takes to win.

_**-Kenya Roseheart D11-**_

Alliances are being formed. Some are rather blunt about who they're with, like the female career group. Others keep a low profile. So far the only other 'group' I've noticed is the one of the two smallest girls and the guy from 7. I wouldn't mind being in their group. Would it be right of me to ask for a place? It might be giving too much of me away, especially if they turn me down.

I'm thinking all of this as I'm sorting through food to put on my plate. I'm a bit of a carnivore so I end up with two meat loaded sandwiches and a couple piles of fruit. I get mostly strawberries and peaches; an odd combination. I grab a bottle of water, then search the training center for Nikolai and spot him eating solemnly by himself. He's far away from everyone else; I grin at my partner's obvious hatred for the world.

Smiling slightly to myself I walk over to Nikolai and plop myself down on the floor across from him. He doesn't even acknowledge me.

"Hey Smiles," I say lightly.

Nothing.

I roll my eyes and begin to eat a sandwich. From my peripheral vision I notice him staring curiously, finally he says, "You shouldn't eat so much. You'll get fat."

I almost choke, "Oh my God. Was that you? Speaking to me? And making a joke that was actually kind of funny?"

He says nothing, but I can see a hint of a smirk on his face; I smile triumphantly and go back to eating. It will probably be the most we say to each other for the rest of the day.

I eat slowly and take my time to observe my other fellow tributes, particularly the careers; my only real chance of getting revenge. They were so going to pay. I'd make sure every last one of them would regret training for this day and actually volunteering for the Games. My brother died because of people like them. I wasn't going to let someone else's sibling end up with the same fate.

While staring at the female Career group I catch the eye of the girl from five. We glare at each other for a moment, and then she turns around abruptly to whisper something to her allies. Simultaneously they shoot looks of disgust at me. I have to suppress the urge to smile.

I look about the rest of the area and study the other tributes. I attempt to memorize what districts the loners are from. The ones that sit alone are the ones that don't have allies yet. That means when the games start they will be the ones whom are hunted down first, before they can join a group. At the start and middle of the Games, power is in numbers. Only towards the end is it a good idea to split away from allies or try flying solo. At least, that's what I think.

I guess some people are more able bodied though. They can take care of themselves, manage to stay out of trouble and avoid the Gamemaker tricks that try to push them into conflict. About five decades ago, a girl from 9 won the games and emerged victor without killing a single person. She was agile, quick, and cunning. During the Games Katniss played in, I thought for sure Foxface would win. The crafty girl reminded me of that old victor.

Lunch ends sooner than I'd like. I chuck my plate into a trash can and head back to the training center. I take a martial arts class, which I end up loving. The guy is older than most of the other trainers, mainly because Karate is such an ancient form of fighting. Since the session only lasts half an hour, I learn almost too much to remember. I can't imagine myself actually using some of those intricate moves in real life, but at least the bit of knowledge is there; just in case I get bored and want to practice.

After the Karate I take an archery class. I choose a light bow and a quiver full of beautifully designed arrows with white and red feathers on the ends of them. The trainer is tall and stern, but she seems to know what she's doing.

First she shows me the basics: how to hold the bow, how to take aim, and how far to pull back the string according to how close the target is. At the start pulling the string back at all is a heavy task; my first attempt ends in utter failure. Once I can officially notch an arrow she lets me practice on close, giant targets. I was a bit embarrassed since about thirty feet away a twelve year old was practicing on a target ten times as far from her as mine was from me.

Imagine my face when I completely missed the target five times in a row. I began to get grumpy, and thought about going somewhere else.

"Don't give up. It just takes some time." My trainer's voice is rather sincere, "Honestly, if you practice for just ten minutes and really focus you'll get the hang of it. You're making it more difficult than it really is. Trust me."

I scowl doubtfully, but raise my bow once more. This time I breathe in deeply and try to concentrate on the target with every ounce of attention that I have. I draw back the arrow, wait a few seconds for my hands to steady, and then let it fly.

I have to restrain myself to keep from jumping with joy! It hit! It hit! I'm so excited that I actually hug the trainer. She laughs heartily and I cheer quietly for myself.

I look over at the little girl who's grinning angelically. I point at my arrow which is embedded into the edge of the bulls-eye, "How do you like them apples?"

She laughs, "Very much!"

She's cute; I smile at her and practice a bit more. After that I don't always hit the bulls-eye, but I usually come very close. My trainer begins to move me to the targets that are smaller and farther away. Eventually I'm right beside the little blonde tribute.

Both the trainers watch proudly as we hit the dummies with admirable precision.

The girl and I (I learn her name is Iris; she's the little one from the only group other than the career's) often take turns watching each other while one of us is busy notching an arrow. When my arrow strikes the dummy in the eye for the third time, Iris beams, "You're a natural."

I cock a brow at her, "Speak for yourself. You're like twelve and wherever you want your arrow to go it obeys. You're spanking me."

She shakes her head and laughs, "No, really, you're very good! You just started today and look how well you're doing! You're a very fast learner."

My forehead wrinkles, "Well, you just started yesterday."

She seems to frown and her blue eyes flit with caution, "Mm hmm."

I smile at her and notch another arrow, take aim, pull it back and let it go. The projectile hits home in the dummy's chest.

I notice the girl looking thoughtfully at my target, "What?" I ask.

"I was just wondering," She says slowly, as if she's chewing on the words, "Do you have any allies yet?"

_**-Nikolai Gregorovich D 11-**_

"Ask yourself, what is tracking?" The instructor walks around the room with his hands clasped together.

Some little know-it-all of a tribute raises their hand. _Good God, it was a rhetorical question you moron._ The trainer seemed be suppressing an eye roll, but he went ahead and allowed the kid to answer,

"It's a tactic used to find animals after you've wounded them."

Way to narrow it down, Genius.

"Well, yes, but there's more to it than that. Tacking can be used to find people too. Today, I'll show you some of the most basic steps you can take to become a decent hunter. Be it of man, or animal."

He strolls up to the front of the class and turns on a large flat screen television that's hooked up to a computer. He shows us a picture of three prints in the ground, obviously made by an animal.

"Tell me what you see." He sits down and waits expectantly.

The 'know-it-all's' hand flies up, "It's an animal's foot prints."

Oh, Jesus Christ, of course that's what they are you dumbass!

A girl speaks up, "Is it some type of rodent print?"

The instructor smiles, "Yes, it is in fact. What else can you guys tell me?"

"It's in mud." The lot of people laughed. I don't know why, I didn't think it was that funny.

"Yes that it is."

I sigh heavily and decide to tell him what he really wants to hear, "It's not that clear or deep, so the animal is on the lighter side. The first print is pretty close to the second so that means it's not moving too fast." Geez people, you don't have to be a hunter to know that stuff. You just need at minimum half a brain.

He grins happily, "Correct. You guys, don't just look at the evident. Delve into the subject. How large is the print? How far away from the next is it? How deep is it? All these things and much more can tell you everything about the animal- or about the person."

The teacher perches on his desk, "If a foot print is very clear and deep- then the person who made it is large. Depending on what size you are, who you're looking for, or what your strategy is, this information is very helpful. If their prints are spaced far apart, then they're moving fast. From this you can deduce a lot. Maybe they know that you're following them and they're moving quicker, maybe they're running _to _something. Also, there is no such thing as a trail ending. They've gone somewhere, perhaps up a tree."

He gets up and the screen flashes to a different picture, "And it's not just prints that can tell you things. Hair stuck to branches, broken twigs, squished down grass. Look for all of these things when you're hunting. This leads me to the second part of the lesson, cover up your own tracks. Step lightly, avoid moist ground, and try to travel on rocks or through water, like a stream, as much as you can. If you're in snow, use a branch to scrape away the path you're leaving behind."

He switches to another slide, "Look for aerial signs of someone's presence. One of the obvious clues to finding a person is smoke, but another that people don't often notice is birds. If you see a flock of birds take off suddenly, it's more than likely something scared them- especially if they're making noise. Usually birds won't move for animals, but if they see something unfamiliar, as in a person, they'll flee."

By the time that class is through with I'm ready for some more physical training. I try to alternate between the two types every half hour. However, mostly I find myself doing more things like sword training and boxing than sitting down and learning.

I end up taking a swimming class. Although I come from a farming district, all the ponds and lakes were used for livestock. If one was caught swimming in any of them it was a crime punishable by death. That sounds so stupid to me- that swimming results in a public display of fatal whipping.

Needless to say, I'm not extremely skillful at it, but I end learning enough that I could swim to save my own life- and that's good enough for me. I also attend a couple different hand to hand combat classes, a rock climbing class, and I'm currently on my third obstacle course.

This one consists of lots of monkey bar type hindrances. I'm crossing the fourth one and there's a huge trampoline underneath me, the drop is about 20 feet.

I'm half way across when I run into Butter Fingers. I don't know who the person is because I can't see their face, then it occurs to me it wouldn't matter if I could see him because I don't give a shit about learning names anyway. I wait patiently at first, because he seems to be stuck, but after a minute or so I become irritated.

"Hey! What going on Jackass?" My fingers and arms are beginning to burn.

The boy's voice is strained, "I can't go any farther! My arms hurt!"

I roll my eyes, "Well then let go you Idiot!"

"I can't! It's too far! I could break something."

My brows narrow and I feel my jaw clench, "There's a trampoline underneath you Moron!"

He merely shakes his head in protest.

My teeth grind together, "Fine, you asked for it."

I move forward a bit farther then swing myself towards him and kick the boy in the back. He cries out in surprise and his grip on the bar loosens. I smile as I watch him drop the twenty feet and hit the black elastic material beneath us. He bounces about five times before he comes to a halt and rolls over with a groan.

Without giving it much more thought, I finish the obstacle and climb down the ladder at the very end. I hit the ground running and don't look back. It wouldn't surprise me, if once the training was over, I was approached by some Peacekeepers and dragged off to be punished for 'physical confrontation with a fellow tribute'.

_**-**__** Natalie Catherine McCartney D8-**_

"_I can do anything you can do better! I can do anything better than you!" _

I've had that little tune stuck in my head all day long. Perhaps I'm developing that mentality, or maybe it's just that I'm a little bit of an odd ball. Anyway, I thought singing it out loud would help me get rid of it, but I'm getting the strangest looks. They must all think I'm crazy.

While singing this little song to myself I wait for the instructor to gather his materials so he can show me how to make a shelter out of branches and nature stuff.

There's one other guy there; he's from district two. Eesh. I hate upper district tributes; they were all so frightening and cruel. He doesn't look too bad though, I mean, he's not glaring at me or threatening to kill me when the Games start. And yes, I've received this particular threat about ten billion, nine hundred million, twenty thousand times now. He actually smiles; it's not real friendly, but it's something I guess. I return the gesture and go back to humming.

It's an awkward silence. I hate awkward silences. He seems to notice too because he finally ends up talking to me, "So, what are you singing?"

My mouth falls open, "You really don't know? Everyone knows that song."

He grins, "Sorry, meant no offense."

I laugh, "It's okay, as long as you know who The Beatles are it's cool beans."

"Who are The B-"

I smack my forehead, "Don't even finish that sentence 'cuz if you do I might have a heart attack."

He laughs, "Okay."

I run a hand through my hair, "Anyway, about the song. I could sing it to you, but it'd take a while. Maybe some other time?"

His face seems to be drawn down in sadness, "It's okay, I don't think we'll really have a chance to talk again after this."

Strange, I'd pretty much forgotten I was training for the Games. I was just thinking of him as another boy, like one from my school. Perhaps we could have been friends in another life. I know my own friends would have been falling over him.

I sigh dejectedly, oh dreary day.

The trainer comes back to break the tension and scatters a couple of things onto the floor. Just as he's getting ready to address us a girl and boy walk in. The girl is from D9 and the boy is from D5. I'm immediately struck with recognition. The guy is the one that everyone remembers because he looks so ill. The girl is the one that was kind of chunky. Chunky isn't a common thing in District 9. She must have come from a rich family. I feel pity for her, she won't make it far. I hate myself for thinking that, but… it's obvious.

The class kind of reminds me of going to school when I was a little kid. It seems fun; like making arts and crafts, but when I remember what I'm learning to do I'm stricken with depression. We put together multiple shades- to keep rain and sun off, shelters- to hide in when we're injuried, and huts to use when it's cold. I was a bit disappointed that there was no opportunity to make igloos. Damn to Hell temperatures above thirty degrees!

After that lesson is through with I make my way over to a weapons making class. They showed me how to make a wooden spear, torch, wooden knife, and a spear head out of stone.

Once the session done, I walk over to the teacher to talk privately with him.

He's a nice man, with a soft face and shiny mahogany eyes. I notice now that all the trainers are pretty normal looking, the only difference between them and district citizens is the Capitol accent.

"Um, I was wondering, can you show me how to make a…." Goodness, now I was just too afraid to ask. It sounded like a ridiculous question.

"It's okay. What do you want to make?"

I wring my hands in each other and bite my lip, quickly I look around before bending down and whispering, "An instrument."

His eyes dart back and forth, then to me again. Great! He thinks I'm stupid!

"As in a 'musical' instrument?" I want to shush him because he seems so loud. I don't want anyone else to know. Instead, I just nod my head sheepishly.

His face is stoic for a moment, and then breaks out into a huge grin. "Of course I can!"

He runs around the desk, over to a pile of wood supplies; I follow eagerly. He picks up a couple pieces (two extremely small pieces of wood) and hands them to me. I look at them with doubt, and then eye him curiously. Is he trying to be sarcastic or something?

He laughs, "For a whistle! A bird call, to be exact."

I wet my dry lips, "But…. I meant like a guitar, or something."

The man chuckles, "Sorry, but for your own good, you don't need a guitar out there."

I want to pout; my guitar back home is like my own drug. Playing it is addicting! My fingers literally ache because I've been away from _her_ from so long!

I try to hand him the blocks of wood back, "Never mind. I get it, it's okay."

He pushes them back towards me and shakes his head, "Nope. Trust me. I'll show you how to make one and you'll be hooked!"

I scrunch my nose skeptically, "Uh, okay."

Side by side, we each make our own whistles. The pieces fit together like a puzzle and create one whole object.

"The best thing about these, they sound like birds. But then again, if you have an ear for music, you can tell that it's a person behind the call." Even though the instrument is no larger than the palm of my hand, I can't help but swell with a little pride, "Tell my Natalie, have you ever sung with birds before?"

I shake my head, "I can't say I have."

He smiles sadly, "Well, out in the games, you're going to see and do some things that will change you forever." He lifts up his whistle, "This is something that no one else will have. It's not a like a token. It's not a piece of home- it's a piece of you. You can never be alone if you have music; not truly anyway. No matter what happens, a bird will always keep singing. This will help you be like that bird- this will help keep you from losing yourself."

I look at my tiny instrument in a new light. Now that I really get what it can do, I realize it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I will play it during the Games, and hopefully, I'll win- with it in pocket.

_**-Zack Thrasher D10-**_

I don't think I've ever gotten so many dirty looks in one day. For some reason people just keep glaring at me, or flipping me off. I think a couple might actually have it out for me. Oh well, let them try something; at least it would make things interesting.

I'm currently taking a rock climbing class. It seems to be the favorite subject of the year, I think every tribute has tried it- some have done it quite a few times. Out of the twenty five or so classes offered, I've taken about eighteen different ones. Some I've taken twice because I need the extra practice- like hand to hand combat and weaponry lessons.

I strap the harness around my chest and legs and start to scale the forty foot wall. No one has made it to the top yet. I get about thirty six feet before my legs and arms start to shake with the pressure. Trying to make it at least one more foot, I slip and my harness is yanked tight as I'm lowered to the ground. Damn, I came close.

Reluctantly, I hit the floor and shed the harness. Too bad, I almost had it. A couple of trainers congratulate me and say they thought I was going to make it. I nod a few thank yous and move on to the next class. It's called 'Strategy'; ever since I heard about it I thought it'd be interesting to take. Now that there's only enough time left for one more lesson, I decide to take it.

The teacher is a woman with short, blonde hair; she is small, young, and extremely pretty. She can't be older than twenty, right? I smile at her charmingly and she grins back; what a flirt. Haha, I just can't control myself.

I take a seat close to the front of the room; a few other tributes file in. Most of them are from the lower districts, and they're small. One just so happens to be Laveda.

I wave my hand, "Hey brat."

She sneers but sits next to me anyway, "What's up?"

I shrug, "Not much. Got allies yet? I've seen you walking around with that other little girl."

"First of all, we're not little. For our ages we're actually at normal heights, second of all, it's really none of your business."

I grimace, "Ouch! That got me right in the heart!"

She frowns, "What about you? Find an ally yet?"

I shake my head, "Nope. I might be flying solo on this one."

She nods slowly and we sit in silence while waiting for the instructor to start her presentation. The thin blonde comes up to the front of the room and leans against her desk.

"First let's start off with a little information about myself. My name is Ring, and I am a past victor of the Hunger Games. I won the 71st Hunger Games, and I'm not a mentor because a year later someone from my district won and took my place," She looks up as if praising the heavens, "Thank you sweet Jesus."

That gets her a couple of chuckles.

"Now, let's get down to the real deal, shall we?" She walks behind her desk and sits down, "Out of all the survival classes you've taken, I'm hoping this isn't a repeat. I'm going to attempt to show you how to basically disappear out in the arena. Some of you might ask, 'why would I want to do that?' Well here's your answer." She touches a button on her computer and a picture is projected onto the white wall. There's and extremely thin, short, brunette girl. She's crouched down, peeking through some thick, green foliage. Her face is drawn down in extreme concentration; her eyes are narrow and her forehead is creased. "This is a picture of Anesta Nova. Anesta won the 26th Hunger Games without killing a single person. How? By being invisible."

She presses another button and a slide with two people on it pop up. One is a boy of about 14, the other a girl of approximately 17. "These two used the same strategy, and although neither of them won, they both came extremely close. They would have won, except at the last second, they dumped their strategy and switched to the offense. Bad move. Once you choose a strategy, stick with it. Very rarely does it work out if you change- use one that best suits you- don't switch unless it's absolutely necessary."

She moves to another slide, "This is a picture of a boy from D2. As you can see, he is not particularly large, but lean and strong. He has been the only tribute_ ever _to kill every single person in the Games all by himself." Some people begin to murmur at that statement, "In order to achieve a level of this barbarity, you have to have no conscience, no fear, and an endless craving for blood. Once he was crowned Victor, and sent back to his home, he murdered three people within the span of his first twenty four hours. He was put to death for his crimes."

Damn. That's brutal.

"So here's what you need to ask yourself, 'Who am I?" Her eyes dart around as she takes all of us in, "Are you crazy? Are you sneaky? Are you fearful?" Her voice becomes a tad softer, "I was a fearful tribute, and I used the same strategy Anesta utilized. Although I came out with the weight of killing two people on my shoulders, I emerged victor." She crosses her arms over her chest, "Figure out who you are. Could you imagine yourself taking the life of another? Depending on who, and what you are, you're approach should be almost completely unique when compared to everyone else's."

She went on to discuss which strategies went with which characteristics, and how to apply them to your own game plan. I came to the conclusion that I would take up tactics similar to Anesta's, only mine included some basic offensive skills.

After that class the Head trainer called us all in, and spoke to us about the training scores.

"Hopefully, by now, you've figured out what it is you do best. Tomorrow, take that skill and exaggerate upon it- don't hold anything back. Although training scores may not affect the outcome of your placing at the end of the Games, the higher score you get the better chance you have of receiving sponsors. That's all I have; this will be the last time I speak with you. You've been a great, strong group. Don't underestimate each other, or yourself. And when I say this, I hope it sounds sincere- _May the odds be ever in your favor_."

**Author's Note: Oh my bottle rockets people! We haven't heard from Lorraine since the beginning of the story! The training is over! Sad day! The next chapter will be training scores. Twelve people will be fit into one chapter and then the second chapter will consist of the other twelve, at the end of that chapter, all scores will be revealed. Obviously Careers will score high, but some who score low are merely hiding their skills, okay? Don't get mad if your tribute didn't get the score you wanted. The scores will in no way affect the outcome of your tribute's fate. After that we'll do the interviews (which might be all twenty four in one ch. I'm not sure yet)! Then the games begin! Omg I'm so friggin excited! Review like Mad Men for points towards sponsorship!**


	23. Training Scores: Part One

**Author's Note: These will be short little snippets of tributes showcasing their best skills in front of the Gamemakers. I will be doing the training scores in order of Districts (as well as the interviews that come afterwards). When the games start everything will become randomized once more. **

_POVs in this chapter:_

_Everyone up to District Six_

**Training Scores: Part One**

_**-Lorraine D1-**_

The small daggers thread in and out of my fingers artistically. I stand in front of the purple clad Gamemakers and juggle the knives with frightening enthusiasm. I caught a few smiles and some nods from the twenty men and women. They scribble on their pads and look back up again. I twist around quickly and thrust three different knives simultaneously into two separate dummies. One dagger strikes home in a dummy's chest, the other two land in the neck and forehead of one of the unlucky targets.

Grinning with self-gratification, I move over to a table set up with vests and belts full of various sized knives. Calmly, I put on a vest, and then position myself in front of an array of moving targets. They remind me of dart boards. Some jerk up really fast, overs move from side to side. I have to make every knife hit a bull's-eye.

I let my hands hover over the hilts of the daggers in my vest, breathe deeply, and then begin to throw. I feel my arms moving at incredibly rapid speeds as one hand clutches a dagger and another heaves one of the small weapons across the room. It seems like forever, but it's only seconds. Within a little over half a minute I have emptied my vest of blades.

Finally I raise my gaze to look at the targets. All of them have stopped moving. I feel my breath hitch. Every single knife is embedded into a bull's-eye.

_**-Antherton D1-**_

I watch as my sparring partner walks unsteadily onto the mat. He glances warily at the Gamemakers and then back at me. I told him before the training even started to give it his all- and his all isn't much. Mostly he just runs from me the whole time. He's a quick little son of a bitch though; I'll give him that. I advance toward the smaller man and he steps off to the side, bouncing like a dancer. I track his movements and smile dangerously.

He knows it's coming.

I lunge at him and he spins out of the way. The trick is to catch him. Like I said, he's really fast. I grimace and pounce again. This time I managed to fist my hand in his loose shirt, I sling him back and throw him out of the ring. Literally. I can't help it- I start to laugh hysterically. I did not mean to do that!

He tries to sit up, but slumps back to floor. I bend down and exit the mat through the ropes surrounding the ring. My sparring partner sees me moving toward him and begins to crawl backwards to get away. I pick him up by the front of the shirt and lift him up off the ground. His feet dangle about a foot and a half off the floor. I grin and draw back my fist. His grip on my wrist tightens and he cringes- and awaits the blow.

"Enough!" Someone yells.

I glance back at the Gamemakers with irritation, but I put him down anyway. He backs away like a crab and whimpers as he flees the training center. I progress towards the weapons. When I pick up an axe, I can't help but notice a few Gamemakers scoot farther away.

_**-Starr Delby D2-**_

When I enter the training center I feel my heart thud a little harder in my chest. I have to outshine Lorraine because her best weapon is a knife; just like me. I can't let her talent create a Halo Effect over me. When she came out of the doors she gave me this kind of smirk and told me 'good luck'. I don't need luck, I have the skills. I know she thinks I'm the weakest link; so does Monique. The only way I can prove to them both that I am a force to be reckoned with is by getting the highest training score; it's the only way to prove to everyone I shouldn't be underestimated.

I smile sincerely at the Gamemakers, and make my way over to a table covered in a wide variety of knives. Some are long, others are short; some are hooked into equipment you can put on your body. I pick up a belt weighed down with about twenty knives that have a blade on both ends. Stilettos.

Smiling slightly to myself I wind the belt tightly around my hips and fasten it. I also pick up a boomerang shaped knife before I leave.

I take a stance before some moving obstacles and begin to sprint towards them. I duck, roll, and flip. I show the Gamemakers everything I've got. Throughout the course I empty my vest of weapons, obliterating every target I pass with them.

At the end of the obstacle course I have five Stilettos left. I take three in my right hand, and two in the other. I make sure the Gamemakers see that I'm ambidextrous. I roll my shoulders forward and shake my head. Time for the truth.

I raise my hands and concentrate on a non-moving target that's about thirty feet away. I close my eyes; breathe in deeply, then thrust the daggers fluidly, one at a time. They all land in the same bull's-eye.

_**-Zane Wolf-**_

They provide me with a sparring partner. He's about the same height and weight as me, and they force me to wear some padding so I don't get accidentally injured. My best fighting technique during training was kick boxing, so I show them the best I've got.

We circle each other at first, accessing and evaluating, then surge forward to fight. He whirls off the ground and spins; trying to kick me in the face. I duck slightly and grab his foot. He manages to twist away before I can bring him down. I take advantage of his back being towards me and leap forward so I can lock my arm around his neck. I get him in a head lock and start to punch him repeatedly in his kidney area. He struggles against me, and eventually someone wells "That's good!" I release my sparring partner and stick out my hand. He grins as he takes it in his own and congratulates me. I thank him and turn to the Gamemakers. The act as a whole earns me nods of approval and hopefully some positive comments.

Once that's over with I try a little bit of Karate moves out, and end up doing better than I'd hoped. I manage to bring down a totally different sparring partner seven times before I move on to showcasing my skills with weapons.

I pick up a long, heavy sword and spar with two mechanical dummies. I kill both of them with ease and pray that it scores me at least a few points in itself. Then I do a couple of maneuvers with the blade and reveal to them my admirable ability to wield the weapon.

After that I move on to archery. I'm not the best at it, and I don't always hit the direct center, but that's not the point. I'm trying to show the Gamemakers that I can apply myself to a wide variety of arms.

The whole time, all I think is, 'God, please let me get a high score'. I need sponsors; I have this feeling that it will be difficult to go it alone.

_**-Claire D3-**_

I pick up two daggers, one I aim carefully at a target about thirty five feet away. I stretch my hand back, and then thrust all of my body weight into the movement as I throw the tiny weapon. It lands dead center in the object.

I toss my last knife into the air and catch it with my right hand. I lift up my arm all the way and stare down the length of it at the butt of the knife I just threw. I slowly draw my hand back, and bite my lip. I bring my hand forward once more, as if I'm going to throw. Good. I think I can make it. Drawing my arm back for the last time, I steady myself and release my weapon. It seems to fly faster than the speed of light towards the target. The dagger strikes home at the end of the first one, so that they're attached to each other.

Smiling lightly, I turn to look at the Gamemakers. They're smiling enthusiastically, some look a little shocked. Probably because all throughout training I never exposed my true talents. I'm almost stunned when one of the men gives me a thumbs up. That has to be good! Right? I mean when they go as far as to give me a thumbs up that has to mean I did something worthwhile.

With new found confidence I walk over to the rock wall. Every station from training has been turned into a miniature version of its former self and put into a large circle surrounding the Gamemakers.

I strap myself into the harness and begin to climb. The textured rocks feel a bit slippery beneath my sweaty hands; now that I've impressed the Gamemakers I feel that I need to keep up my performance. My goal is to ascend quickly, not so much gracefully, and to reach the top without my arms giving out. To my amazement I reach the buzzer sitting upon the structure and hit it. It sounds, and then I'm slowly lowered to the ground. I grin; this is cake.

_**-Newton D3-**_

I've done some knife throwing, and some spear wielding, but nothing can compare to this. I'm currently assembling a rather simple 'homemade' electric bomb. It's small, but durable. It took forever to convince the Gamemakers to let me create the contraption; they assumed that I was trying to blow them up. After some coaxing and a little brown nosing, I managed to persuade them to let me try it. Of course, they had an explosions expert observing my work over my shoulder.

I have to be careful with how much power I use. The device needs to be small enough that it doesn't destroy anything, but large enough that it awes the Gamemakers. The idea is to get the point across that I can use the most basic resources available to me during the games and make powerful weapons out of them.

Since I'm relatively small as far as muscle goes and I lack the proper knowledge, I know my skills with the weapons didn't impress. I only displayed my 'talents' with blades to show the Gamemakers I'm capable of using physical force in order to protect myself.

Gently, I knot the last two wires together. I motion towards the man above me to back off. He does and I follow him. I take off my tennis shoe and aim it at my creation. I underhand the footwear and it skids across the floor. At first I grit my teeth in anger- I don't want to have to throw it again. 1. It would make me look like a fool. 2. It… well there's always the chance it could blow up in my face.

Anyway, to my relief the shoe slides across the floor until it softly thuds against the explosive. We wait about a split second before it blasts into a thousand tiny pieces.

_**-Hazel D4-**_

I stare up the rock wall with wide eyes. I've climbed before, but never anything this… vertical, and I've always had branches, not tiny rocks to grab on to. I begin strapping myself into the harness when I stop as I'm fastening the belt around my lower waist. I never used a harness to climb the old Redwood trees in the forest, or the oak that loomed over my family's two story house.

I shed the protective gear and begin to ascend the wall; if I fall, then I'm toast. I must be crazy, but when I look back on everything I've done so far there's been nothing particularly stunning about me. I have to get a high score if I want to get sponsors. And besides, I don't have allies either- so I'm going at it alone. _All by myself. _The thought makes me want to tear up. I shake my head, if I want an ally I'm going to have to prove that I'm worthy, and what better way to do that than with a score of about 10? Surely this stunt will earn me at least that… right?

I've gone more than half way up the structure; I'm already getting that tingling feeling in my arms. My breathing has also become heavier, and my heart is beating slightly quicker.

"If you get tired, you need to come down."

I ignore who ever said that, probably a Gamemaker. I hear the same person yell 'Get a mat'; they really think I'm going to fall, don't they? This only makes me move faster; soon I'm only five feet from the top. When I finally get there, I'm out of breath. I hit the buzzer and it sounds off annoyingly in my ear. I can't stay here, I'll fall- and even though there's an inflated bouncy thing beneath me, it won't look good to the Gamemakers- and I'm too tired to go all the way back down. I just need to catch my breath. My arms and legs are shaking now; God I have to sit down! There's only one thing I can do.

I heave myself farther up the rock wall, until half my body is over the top. I place my feet on the last few rocks to turn around carefully and lift myself onto the top of the structure using my upper body. I anchor myself with my hands and look down about forty feet at the Gamemakers; they're shocked. It's a good kind of shock. I want to cry out with joy! But, I don't know if I have enough energy left. I come to the decision that I need to take a breather before I descend. Luckily the top of the wall goes back about ten feet. I flop down on my back and close my eyes. I did it.

_**-Ray D4-**_

I search the racks full of spears. Most of them are solid, shiny silver, from rod to tip, and probably incredibly expensive. But I don't need one of those heavy, admittedly beautiful weapons- what I need is something closer to home. Finally I find three of them; they're the only bundle that large and it's mostly due to the fact that they're made of wood with sharpened spear heads on them completed of rock.

I take the weapons and begin to walk away, but then I stop to go back and pick up one of the least heavy, metal spears.

I have the three wooden javelins in one hand, and the metal one in the other- it weighs more than the three combined. I lay down the single spear on the floor and take the others over to a mechanically changing obstacle course. I jump into the course head on as the floor tries to roll out from under me, shifts upwards to throw me off, and things come out of the ceiling and take swipes at my head.

I'm about a quarter of the way through the course when the first target appears before me. I know I have only seconds to thrust one of the wooden spears before the round board disappears into the floor forever. I take my chance, and surprise myself with a near bull's-eye throw. For all I know, it could have been dead center, but I can't exactly stop and study my target. I relieve myself of the next spear by flinging it through the neck of a moving dummy.

My last goal is a little more difficult to find- there are multiple targets, but the less advanced the throw, the lower the score. I shouldn't have wasted my first spear; I feel a tingling sensation of regret in the back of my head. I shake the thought away and finally spot the only target I've seen for a while that is worthy of my weapon. It's like a dart board lying down on the floor, it spins and the whole thing rotates in a jagged circular motion. I sprint up a ledge in the obstacle course and jump off of it, landing feet first on the target. My weight slows down its movement; I lower myself to my knees, and with all my strength I shove the head of the spear into the bull's-eye.

When I'm done I go back to the metal spear and request that three dummies be lined up in a row. I stand so that the first is facing me, and the other two have disappeared behind it. I'm about ten feet away. I lift the heavy spear, take aim, get a small running start, and thrust it at the dummies with all the force I have. When I walk off so I can look at them from the side, I see the spear has gone through the first dummy's throat, the second's, and the deadly, pointy tip of the spear is buried in the third's neck by about four inches.

_**-Monique D5-**_

I stand erect, the sword dangling from my grip. I watch with anticipation as a couple of Avoxs assemble around me a group of six robotic dummies. They circle me like a group of weak allies might if I were to get caught in the Games (although that's highly unlikely). Once the Avoxs leave, I ask the control people to start up the bots. They hum to life and lift their weapons, with mechanical hisses they advance upon me all at the same time. I smirk and drop down to one knee, every one of them seem to lunge forward at the simultaneously.

I angle my sword out and spin on me heel 360 degrees, then let my weapon do the rest of the work. I split the legs of every single robot in two. When the robots had leaned in and missed, they were forced to reel away, so most of them just feel back and crashed to the floor. One happened to be leaning forward at the time of my maneuver though, because he pitched towards me slowly. I grin as I hold out a hand and catch him by the neck. I bend down and whisper to the technological dummy,

"To the future tributes that will see this exact face before they die, I salute you."

Then I thrust my sword through its chest cavity. The tip protrudes out of the back, and reflects the lights of the training center. I let the destroyed dummy drop to the floor, and place my foot on its stomach area, I us it as leverage and yank the sword out.

I look back to the Gamemakers, they're scribbling like mad and nodding. They seem to do a lot of that- scribble, nod, scribble, nod. I want to leap over their food covered table and demand to know what my score is right now. But that would probably get me killed by some horrible Gamemaker trick during in the arena.

Instead I shrug it off and waltz over to a mat so I can show them some of my gymnastic skills and grand ability to flex. I do some splits, hand stands, back flips, and some front hand springs. When I skip off the mat and get ready to go down the steps, I walk on my hands. The Gamemakers chuckle lightly, and I smile to myself. Brownie points!

_**-Timothy D5 *Bloodbath*-**_

I stand in front of the Gamemakers with my hands in my pockets, "I don't really do anything special."

The one at the center of the table cocks his head to the side, "Well, surely you must be hiding something; after all, you volunteered."

I shake my head.

A woman next to that guy speaks up, "If you don't do anything, we will be forced to give you a zero…. And no one has ever gotten a zero."

"It's okay. I'm pretty sure I won't need sponsors."

The woman's eyes seem to glaze over with a mixture of sadness and understanding, "Oh, I see."

I nod, and rub the back of my neck, "So, can I go now?"

"Yes, please do."

_**-Maia D6-**_

I don't know why, but I seem to excel in hand to hand combat. All throughout training I breezed through the exercises and was soon moved into an advanced class, which is only visited by Careers. The trainer gave me some advice, and told me that I was doing so well I should probably use it during the training score session.

Anyway, I only have a little bit of time to show everyone what I have, and I won't waste it on weapons- the only thing I've been good at is boxing. The karate and wrestling were too much for me. I'm quick, and efficient. I don't need a whole bunch of fancy moves or a hundred pounds of muscle to bring down another tribute.

I stand on the mat with a sparring partner and hold up my gloved hands to protect my face, a little bell sounds and I'm released to fight. I advance upon the woman across from me, slightly bouncing on my feet. She's been doing this for a while, so when I try a couple of fake outs she's ready for them and able to block me. She actually gets in the first two solid punches. The whole time I'm studying her movement- her left side is angled away from me and she seems to do well with my supposedly 'tricky' moves. She's anticipating me now; the lady thinks she knows what kind of fighter I am.

I move towards her once more, and this time I try something different. She goes to hit me, but I grab her arm, twist it, and propel her forward. She follows the motion in order for the pressure I'm putting on her to ease; I spin around behind her and try a little dirty fighting. Lifting up my foot I kick her in the back of the knee and the joint gives out and she falls onto it. I grab a fist full of her brown hair and pull down as hard as I can. She bends over backwards, her face tilted up to me, and I punch her right in the face. I don't even know where I got her, but it was enough force in just the right place that it knocks her out.

She falls slowly to the floor and lands face first. I feel no guilt, no pity for the woman. She's a Capitolite, so she's practically not even human.

I turn to face the Gamemakers. Some of them look a bit shaken others seem rather happy about my performance. One woman even smiles at me.

As I walk out of the room, I hear someone say, "Astonishing group we have this year!"

_**-Erik D6-**_

I pick up a crossbow; it's made so that it can shoot up to three arrows at a time. There's an automatic setting and semi-automatic- I choose the latter.

It's heavy in my arms, but all throughout training it seemed the heavier the weapon was, the better I could control it. The weight seemed to steady my hands.

Obviously, coming from district six, I didn't have experience with weapons. What I've learned with the crossbow during the last two days of training is the most I've been taught about any kind of weapon in my entire life.

I walk over to a couple of targets and begin to shoot. It's nothing fancy, and I never hit the bull's-eye. The closest I come to the center out of them all is about three and a half inches. It doesn't disappoint me though, and besides, I expected to do 'only decent'. You see, the person everyone saw me as, was just a weakling.

To my fellow tributes, I was a slightly chubby and inexperienced whelp that would probably end up dying in the bloodbath. To the careers, I probably seemed like someone who would be fun to hunt down, torture, and then kill, but it wasn't going to happen like that. As soon as that gong rang I planned on running like there was no tomorrow. I knew it was going to be war down there, especially since there were already two groups formed. They would fight over that Cornucopia as if they were starving dogs fighting over the last bits of a torn up, bloody goose.

I spend the rest of my time throwing a few spears and using a regular bow on some targets that are fairly close.

The way I see it, getting a high training score wouldn't gain me sponsors anyway. With the Careers being the way they were this year, I'm pretty sure I'd be overlooked even if I got a score of eleven.

My only hope in the arena was that I could run for it, somehow manage to get my hands on a bow, and maybe join up with a trustworthy ally. God help me.

**Author's Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS! This is my present to you (today is twenty fifth, so hopefully I can find a Wi-Fi hotspot and get this out before the day's over with)! If I can't get it out on time… well then it's a late present! Like the kind you get from that nosy neighbor or estranged in law! And OMG you guys I got a Kindle Fire and I loooooovvvvveeee it RAWR! Tis an awesome present! Anyways, I just wanted to remind everyone, the more you review, the more likely it is that your tribute will live longer! I'm not ranting, so don't think I'm mad or anything, I know it's the Holidays and all, and that most of us will be drunk until next week (tehe, I know I will be!). AND GUESS WHAT Y'ALL…. WE'RE ALMOST TO 200 REVIEWS! SERIOUSLY, do you know how much I love you guys? Of course not, cuz if you did you'd probably block me ;D. Lol! Remember to vote on my poll!**


	24. Training Scores: Part Two

**First Off: When I got my new Kindle Fire and looked for books to buy- ALL THREE HUNGER GAMES BOOKS WERE PICTURED IN THE FIRST FIVE RECOMENDED! HOW AWESOME IS THAT? EAT SHIT STEPHANIE MEYER! EAT IT! Lol, just kidding. Anyway, I thought my HG homies would enjoy that bit of info. Also, did you know there is a book about the series? A book about a book… It's called The Girl Who Was On Fire! I'm buying it! Anything that has to do with Collins WILL BE MINE! RAAAWWRRRRRRR!**

**Author's Note: Uh oh, only three people reviewed? Someone stole my reviewers again (others managed to escape the wrath of the Reviewer Jacker- THANK GOD!) Come back to me!**** Really though, please review- I'm holding the next chapter until I get at least five.**

**Training Scores are at the very bottom in the President's POV! **

_POVs in this chapter:_

_Everyone from District Seven to Twelve_

_The President_

**Training Scores: Part Two**

_**-Phoebe D7-**_

I don't know much about weapons, at least not enough to kill a person with one. Coming from District 7 I've swung an axe a couple of times, but my aim isn't that good because of my lazy eye. I do the best I can with the weapon. I manage to bring it all the way through a thick wooden post in about four swings. This seems to surprise some of the judges. I imagine that my initial impression wasn't quite phenomenal. I'm sure that after I leave here today that they won't remember me, but it's not like I'm a career so that thought doesn't hurt my feelings one bit.

I wish everyone would forget me; that when it came time to enter the arena my fellow tributes would simple disregard me. I don't want anyone to see me as a threat, because I don't want to be targeted.

After messing around with the axe for a while, I decide to do swing a sword. That doesn't work out for me, and I end up wishing that I'd never picked it up in the first place. Time seems to fly by, I feel like I don't have enough of it. When the Gamemakers call to me that I need to leave, I feel a surge of desperation rip my insides apart. They don't know anything about me! How can a few minutes of observing me allow them to create some score that virtually decides my fate in the Games? Goodness… I've never felt more helpless in my life. You think the reapings are the worst thing that can happen, but it's everything after that; even something as little as a training score is capable of crushing your spirit.

_**-Forrest D7-**_

Obviously my weapon of choice is an axe. I've handled one more times than I can count and I started chopping wood at about age 11. The only difference between the one currently in my hands and the instruments I'm used to is that this one is made for killing humans- not trees. A lot of people from the lower districts consider us very lucky; we can 'train' legally. However, the President thought our constant use of saws and axes was slightly unfair. If it didn't slow down production, the Capitol would make us use butter knives to cut Pines.

I stand in front of a row of dummies. They're extremely lifelike; their 'skin' is made out of some fleshy, soft material. Their insides are as similar to a real person as you can get without cloning. They even have fake blood in them. If I cut its head off, I'll get splattered with red colored corn syrup.

My grip around the silver axe tightens; I hate this. I abhor the fact that the Capitol has enough power to force me to play God. What right do I have to take away someone's life? Then I see my brother's tiny face in my head. I flinch when I recall the way he cried after I told him that I had to compete in the Games. Even at five, he knew what happened in that arena. I tried to keep him away from it, to shield him from the harsh truth, but when you live in Panem it doesn't matter if you're a toddler or not- the games are a part of you from birth.

I could not abandon him. I wasn't going to be like my mother and just give him up. Sure, dad could have the neighbors babysit, but we're all the family Elliot has. If I go, then Elliot is alone. He knows my father loves us both equally, but that won't be enough- it wouldn't be enough for me.

I stare into the face of the dummy; it's taunting me. '_You won't do it, you won't do it, you won't do it!' _

I swing the axe with the most fury I've ever felt in my life. The strike is so quick and smooth that the head barely moves at all; if you hadn't been watching you wouldn't have thought I had swung. My eyes narrow dangerously; I place a finger against its forehead and push. The head falls to the floor and rolls away.

_**-Natalie D8-**_

All the things I can do really well I can't show the Gamemakers with what they've given to me. At least, I'm worried that it will turn out that way. I twiddle my thumbs in the elevator, bite my nails while waiting to be called in, and when I finally get to have my turn- my brain seems to turn to jelly. I look at those people sitting at their big fancy table and feel like retching. I don't want to 'impress' them, I don't want to act for these people. However, the choice isn't mine to make. If I do nothing I'll get a zero, if I tell them what's really on my mind then I'll die for sure in the games.

I have to do something, but mark my words I'm not going to look happy about at all. With a huge scowl on my face I walk over to the plant section and begin to collect herbs. I try to find plants with the soothing Aloe in them, and luckily it ends up grabbing most of my attention. After inspecting most of the photosynthesizing life forms, I pick a spot on the floor and place my selected species around me. Then I remember I have to go back to get a bowl and a 'masher', so I make sure to take my sweet time. I can only hope to annoy the Gamemakers.

I have all the ingredients and materials, now I just have to recollect the recipe. It doesn't take much effort on my part; being a vegan I know almost all there is to know about plants. After some cutting, mashing, and mixing, my concoction is complete. I pick up the bowl, and rise up off the floor. Pulling my mouth into a tight line I walk up to the Gamemakers and throw my solution onto their table and then walk out of the room without saying a single word. Just wait until they find out what I made. Let's just put it this way- what I made with simple plants- all of District 8 couldn't afford to send me the Capitol's version of it during the Games.

_**-Zach D8-**_

The rock wall is a breeze; I end up getting what's most likely the fastest time ever on it. My adrenaline is pumping and my hands flex anxiously, I feel the need to pick up a weapon. I find myself scouring the table concealed with bows and end up choosing a heavy metal and partly plastic crossbow. I take it over to a target ring.

While setting up my weapon my mind begins to reel. How many more tributes have picked this up? How many have shot at these targets? I know I'm not the only one that will end up operating a bow; after Katniss the use of it spiked. I can't let anyone overshadow me; I don't care whether or not others will target me just because I get a high training score. I don't care if I'm underestimated either. I just want the sponsors, because at this point I have no allies. It will be challenging to steal from my fellow tributes and more difficult kill them if they're in groups.

In no time at all I have adjusted my weapon. About a hundred yards from directly in front of me there are ten bottle shaped targets set up on a stand. I raise my crossbow and take aim, and then begin to shoot. All throughout training, one of the things I hammered on was efficiency and speed. Reloading takes less time than shooting. When I finish, I've taken down eight. That's good enough for me and even if it might lower my score because I didn't get them all- show me one other tribute that could do half that good.

_**-Pipple D9-**_

This is a train wreck. Every time I pick something up, I drop it. Every time I take a step, I stumble. One time I pick up a bow and try to shoot an arrow. For some reason when I'm aiming, I inch my foot forward without realizing my shoe string is caught under the other shoe. I pitch forward and trip over myself multiple times before I hit the ground.

I shake my head and begin to stand when something catches my eye. A couple of the Gamemakers pop up from underneath the table. The look behind them and I see that my arrow is embedded into a picture just behind where their heads would be if they were still sitting.

I'm ushered out quickly, but before I leave I hear someone say, "I can't believe that happened _again."_

_**-Ryan D9-**_

These people are idiots. Not everything can be achieved using deadly force! What about people like me, People with high IQs? How am I supposed to show them everything I have if they aren't giving me the proper materials to do so?

No matter. My plan is to get a lower score anyway; I don't have an ally so I don't need to worry about impressing anyone. And I don't believe in sponsors. Yeah, they can send you weapons during the games, food and medicine as well. But not what is truly required to win- they can't send you a better brain.

I already have all the skills necessary to become victor, and I know how to apply them. However, I can't simply stand here and do nothing- an extremely low score from a person like me would be obvious- that I was hiding something. So I pick up some spears and thrust them through as many different types of targets from as many angles and distances possible. When I'm done with that I reveal my 'skills' with a knife.

Of course, coming from 9 I don't know a lot about how to use a weapon, but it doesn't matter because I know people well enough. I'm a realist, a scientist even. I analyze, observe, and gather data. If I want to win, I must not try to pretend to be something I'm not. I don't have to be a warrior in order to be a killer.

_**-Laveda D10-**_

They call my name; it's my turn. As I'm walking towards the doors I glance back at Iris. We're trying to conceal the fact that we're allies by conversing as little as possible. Somehow she senses my gaze, and without turning her head nods solemnly.

Our plan must work. We don't think the Careers have figured out we are allies yet- Iris, Forrest, Kenya, and me. They can't know. Since the Games began the Careers have always been the ones to take the Cornucopia, this year it's going to be different. Well that's what we're hoping anyway. No matter how it turns out they'll have to fight for it this time, and I mean for real.

When I walk into the training center, I keep my chin high and my gaze hard. I go straight for the knives. Knives are probably the most popular weapon during the games. Not many people know how to use bows, and if they pick one up during training without the proper knowledge then they have to possess a true natural talent to do well with one. Knives are easy to use, and extremely versatile. I can throw them, use them in close range combat, and use them for daily needs such as cleaning a fish or cutting. It's also effortless to conceal one.

I take a vest and a belt full of knives and then I take two large ones to carry in either hand. At first I go to the training mat to spar. A woman with cropped brown hair and fiery blue eyes opposes me. She holds a sword in her right hand. We are both covered in a specially type of impenetrable body armor. It's virtually invisible, but if it detects a cut it will trace the line of the slash so that when you're finished you can see what damage has been done.

My partner swings her sword in a circle and advances. I raise one knife and keep the other lower. In a flurry of kicks, spins, and swings, I almost can't tell where anything is going. She's extremely fast, but luckily I can use two knives at a time. She brings her sword up to deliver a final blow, I raise my left knife and it hits the side of her weapon. I push and it runs all the way down the side of her blade to her hand; the only place that's not protected. Real blood starts to fly and she drops the sword in an act of pain. She hits the floor and I twist around so that I have my knife at her throat. I win.

_**-Zack D10-**_

God I'm so tired, I was up all night trying to figure everything out. Allies, strategy, what to do for the training scores today. Speaking of allies, I currently have zero. I want one, but I guess I'll just have to wait for the games to start before I get one.

I am now waiting a small room to be called into the training center. My mentor and I talked it over and decided I should give it everything I've got. No use in holding back or trying to trick people when you look like I do.

Finally someone calls my name. My right foot went to sleep and when I stand to leave I kind of stumble. I shake away the feeling of pins and needles. When I make it into the Training Center the first thing that catches my eye are the Gamemakers. They sit at a very long table covered in food and drinks and are wearing purple robes. The men and women look like they're about to fall asleep. Great, that's just what I need.

I jog over to the knives and pick a few up. I stand across from the targets and begin to throw. It's very basic stuff, nothing fancy. After that I pick some moving targets. My goal is to get as close to the bull's eye quickly. I'm right handed so I can only throw one at a time, but my aim is so good that it kind of makes up for it. I've never practiced with weapons before; this is the first time I've ever had to prove myself with one. In gym we would throw javelins and we had a couple of school sponsored archery sessions, but other than that I was forced to make do with what I had. I didn't plan on getting into that many fights as it was. What I wanted to do was lay kind of low, out of sight. Maybe then I could get what I needed and be gone before anyone knew I was there.

_**-Kenya D11-**_

Every time I shoot an arrow, I think of the target as a Career. I would make them pay- all of them would regret wanting to become some bloodthirsty murderer. Nobody should ever have the desire to be in the Hunger Games. I don't care if you're doing it for the money, for family, for your district, none of that is a cause worthy enough of killing a child.

I don't care if I died in these games, I would get revenge. _They killed my brother_. I release another arrow and it flies straight into a bull's-eye. _They tortured him_. I notch another arrow and take aim. _They enjoyed every second of it_. I release it and it finds home in the same bull's-eye.

I move through the targets at a rapid speed, my sudden, desperate anger fuels my want for a score as high as what a Career would get. I want to make them suffer in any possible way. My teeth grind together as I replenish my quiver with more of those pretty silver arrows.

I start to look for things other than those simple, dartboard- like targets. The lights that hang above us are dangling from thin cords. I take aim and let fly. My arrow soars through the air and cuts right into the cable. There's a moment of silence and then it crashes to the floor. I end up shooting down three more lights before I'm told to stop.

I'm breathing heavily and my heart is thudding. I had to make them pay for what they did; for what they were going to do.

Sweat drips down into my eyes and it stings like Hell. I wipe it away and turn toward the Gamemakers. They all look rather unsteady; I have a weird feeling deep down that these people don't like bows and arrows.

When I leave I thrust the bow onto a table and march out the door.

_**-Nikolai D11-**_

With irritation gnawing on the back of my brain I scan the shelves holding the axes. Where the Hell is it? All they have are maces and various kinds of the axe. But not the kind I want. I end up choosing a regular old dumbass axe.

I have no particular strategy, whatever happens, happens.

Trying to care as little as possible I lay the axe handle on my shoulder and walk over to some dummies. From far away they look like real people. I get a good grip on my axe and start to swing at one of them, and I don't just stop with one swing.

By the time I' m done with the thing it's in pieces and there's fake blood all over the place. Limbs are scattered- well parts of them anyways, and when I go to work on the next dummy a Gamemaker shouts that I should stop.

"Why?"

"Well, you're kind of making a mess."

I snort in annoyance, but move on to something else. I decide to run one of their obstacle courses. It consists mostly of odd contraptions that come out of the ceiling, the floor, and other devices that try to trip me. I don't stumble on any of it; luckily. While I'm at it I chop up a few targets with my axe.

When they call for me to finish I take the axe and place it back on its shelf. I walk calmly over to the Gamemakers and grab a dinner roll off their table. The man at the center gawks like he can't believe I just did that, the rest simply stare as I munch on their food.

I strut off, but before I leave I turn back to look at them, "By the way," I take a bite of the roll, "Make sure you put a Sickle in the Cornucopia. That's a SICKLE." I say the word slowly so they'll remember it. Then I leave.

_**-Iris D12-**_

I sling the quiver of arrows over my shoulder and jog to the targets. I empty the compartment on them in a matter of seconds. Each and every arrow finds home in a Bull's-eye. Quickly I run back to the table covered in full quivers and decide to take two because the first emptied way to fast.

I position myself across from an intimidating target. It's at least three hundred yards away, maybe more. The target itself is rather small, and the rings surrounding the center are thick while the bull's-eye is miniscule. I actually have to raise my bow up a few more notches than usual so I can ensure the arrow covers the distance.

Without any hesitation I release my arrow; the string on my bow is painfully tight, so the speed at which it flies is almost unbelievable. During training I practiced with every bow I could get my hands on, now I'm beginning to reap the rewards. The arrow protrudes from the bull's-eye, and not only did it hit dead center, but it went clean through the target itself. The tip of the arrowhead stuck out of the back of the board by about two inches.

I grin in triumph, but don't linger. I took advantage of what time I had, and worked on every type of target available. Some were up close but microscopic, others were far away and large. I also trained on dummies, they weren't like the ones we'd practiced on the last couple of days; these were frighteningly lifelike. I suppose that was the idea though, to make us hesitate. Even though I bit my lip while I did it, I shot multiple arrows into the things from tremendously far distances.

By the time I was done, I felt like I had given them everything I could. I held back during training, I tried to appear intimidated by the weapons and the people, but today I showed the Gamemakers everything I kept hidden from my peers. Hopefully it was enough to prove to them that even though I'm small, I pack big power. Maybe a score of about 12 would make those careers second guess what they were dealing with.

_**-Daryl D12-**_

There are five bottled shaped targets in front of me. I raise my bow and take aim at the targets off to the left side; it takes me a few moments to steady my hands, but when I'm ready I release the arrows without further hesitation.

I picked a crossbow that can be fixed with three arrows at a time. I take out all three of the targets. I fit two more arrows across the bow and release them. I miss both targets, _shit._

I sigh dejectedly; so far I've done decent, but I'm so freaking nervous I can't control my hands. I walk over to another set of targets and begin to try them out. The whole time I think about the impact this is going to have on the Games. Iris has already joined a group; I heard her and our mentor talking about it last night. When he asked why she didn't offer me an invitation, she said that it would have made things more complicated.

Iris may have been young, but she was smart. They began to talk about her plan for the Cornucopia and I got the Hell out of there. I didn't want to hear about it- the less I knew, the safer she would be. I think that as long as one of us lived, I would be happy.

_**-The President-**_

I hear a light knock on the door; it's Fawn, my secretary. Sighing heavily I call for her to come in.

She walks up to my desk with that same business like composure and deadpan look on her face, "Sir, the training scores are in." She's wearing a black pencil skirt and a white shirt under black pinstriped vest. She reminds me of my mother.

I smile with sincerity, "Wonderful."

Fawn moves to give the papers to me, but I shoo her hand away. I turn so the back of my chair is facing her, "Just read them to me. I don't need to know the details."

"Very well, sir." She clears her throat, "The following tributes have received scores based on their performance in front of a panel of unbiased judges. The number following the name is the average score found by the combined efforts of twenty Gamemakers."

I rotate my hand irritably, urging her to skip all the bullshit. If I wanted to hear that I would have taken the paper to read myself. She continues hastily,

"Lorraine Lattanzi: 10. Antherton Desby: 9. Starr Delby: 11. Zane Wolf: 10. Claire De Leon: 10. Newton Gordon: 11. Hazel Cresta: 8. Ray Archer: 10. Monique Steel: 11. Timothy Jones:" There's a slight pause before she begins again, "-No score. Maia Colt: 10. Erik Traub: 5. Phoebe Taylor: 3. Forrest Clarke: 7. Natalie McCartney: 9. Zach Crado: 8. Pipple Tron: 1. Ryan Perry: 4. Laveda Sodaet: 10. Zack Thrasher: 7. Kenya Roseheart: 11. Nikolai Gregorovich: 11. Iris Bloom: 11. Daryl Rivers: 7."

I nod thoughtfully, "Thank you, Fawn."

"Sir," She leaves without saying anything more.

When I hear the door click closed, I turn back around to my desk and see that my assistant left the papers. No one but the Gamemakers, my secretary, and I are allowed to see these. They encompass meticulous information on each tribute's little act. I don't read a single word; as an alternative I put them through the shredder. I want to be surprised.

**A Quick Note: If you never submitted an interview outfit for your tribute then I will decide on one for him/her. Remember way back when I asked for interview quotes? Hopefully you sent them in (but don't worry- it's not required)! If you didn't but now you want to- just PM the quote and label your message QUOTE so it's easy to find. If you've already done it then don't worry because I still have them. Thank you! Interviews will be done basically the same way as training, but probably a bit longer. Two more chapters Y'all! And vote on my new poll- for instance, even if you vote on your own tribute WHO MIGHT HAPPEN TO BE THE NICEST OF THE BUNCH and it's the only choice made within the three day time limit then I'll give you THIRTY POINTS! Remember, I'm holding the chapter until I get five reviews for this one, so review PURTTY PLEASE!**


	25. The Interviews: Part One

**Authors Note: Okay, some people didn't give me outfits for this so I had to make some things up! (Or if you did, but there were issues with your form, I'm sorry). Remember, I don't have internet, so I didn't want to keep you guys waiting too long for this chapter. Thank you for all the reviews! It was a wonderful New Year's present! And hopefully you guys didn't think I was mad or anything- the reason I held the chapter was because I had posted three and gotten only a couple reviews for each. I figured people were busy with the Holidays and I didn't want everyone to come back and have to read four new chapters. Yet, again I thank everyone who reviewed… o.- your characters shall live long and prosper… really though, they will! I already know of quite a few that are going to make it all the way to the end! And I know these interviews are long, sorry about that, but I want everyone to have a better idea of what the tributes are like. **

_POVs in this chapter:_

_Everyone up to District Six_

**The Interviews: Part One**

_**-Lorraine D1-**_

"How does it feel?" Lerida chews on the end of a makeup brush anxiously.

I nod, "Really nice, I mean I can move pretty well."

"Take a walk in it."

Standing up straight I put my shoulders back and spin and turn in the dress. It moves freely around my legs, but the bodice is almost so tight I can't breathe. I clutch at my stomach in pain; it hurts even worse now that I've moved my ribs.

"What is it?"

I shake my head, "Nothing," I wheeze out.

One of the members of my prep team gasps, "She can still inhale!"

They advance upon me as if they're getting ready to tighten the contraption and I back up, head low and teeth bared like a feral animal, "Don't. Touch. Me."

After a few minutes of arguing it's decided that everyone wants to keep their heads and I get to wear the dress the way I want to.

We make our way to the interviews and the whole while my prep team is touching up my make-up and rearranging strands of hair. I have large, diamond stud earrings in and an upper arm spiral bracelet on that's encrusted in green and white jewels. My outfit is heavier than a primitive knight of the round table getup. Although the fabric is soft and silky against my skin, the outer world would never know because the entire dress is concealed in jewels that are the same mossy green as my eyes. It's strapless, floor length, and the sweet heart neckline accentuates my 'shape'.

As we reach the backstage I begin to hear traces of the audience, and from peeking behind a curtain I can see that it's a full house; not one seat is left open. The people shuffle around and chat animatedly; suddenly I feel a presence behind me. I know who it is by the smell of that expensive, overdone cologne- Antherton. I turn to look and see that he's standing in a rather superior manner; my partner's hair is swept in an up-do kind of way and he's wearing a suit that mimics our District's mass production of precious gems. He notices me looking and smirks as if he caught me admiring him.

Snarling, I stick my nose in the air and hitch up my dress so I can get away faster, "In your dreams savage barbarian."

He then presumes to beat on his chest like Tarzan; I simply roll my eyes and amble on. They sit me down in a chair that's closest to the stage. Since I'm a female and from district One, I get to be the very first. This could be both beneficial, and undesirable. For one, if I can create a Halo Effect and overshadow my competition, then I'll be remembered. The latter would be that I could be forgotten by my viewers because there are twenty three tributes after me. I should be alright though; they say that the first and last tributes are the two that are most recalled.

My peers dart around anxiously as they begin to fill up the seats. We're lined up along a wall; each of us sitting next to our district partner. Antherton lumbers past me and plops himself down into his chair. He grins at me, flashing two gold front teeth.

My lip pulls up in disgust, "That's attractive." I turn my gaze away and pretend that I don't know him.

"I bet you think it is," He laughs; from the corner of my eye I see he's crossed his arms, "Honestly, I'm hurt that you haven't made me an offer of alliance yet."

This makes me smile; I twist around to face him, "Indeed. Maybe if you weren't such a boorish pig we would have invited you."

His eyes go wide and he places a hand over his heart, "Oh, is it a 'girls only' thing?"

I scowl, "Please, if it was a 'girls only' gig then you'd have no problem getting in."

I hear him growl just before the national anthem begins to play. We all stand respectfully; wait for it to sojourn, and then our new interviewer walks onto the stage. Everyone in the audience hops to their feet and roars in excitement. She's quite a sight, I must admit. Her hair is a light, cerulean blue, with darker blue low lights and creamy highlights. Her skin is tanned to the absolute max, and here's the big kicker- _she has the largest fake tits in the whole world_. She seems to take note of this fact because the otherwise tiny woman leaves everything hanging out. She's dressed in complete white clothing with hundreds of black bracelets donning her wrists and a pair of heavy, dangly, black earrings on.

"How's everybody doin' today, huh?" The crowd cheers in response to her question and she bows, "Thank you, thank you!"

She struts over to her seat and sits down in a way that suggests she's trying to be alluring. I grimace as she talks in that squeaky Capitolite voice, "My name is Cimmira and I'm your new host this year! What do you say we get this road on the show?"

_Road on the show?_ I roll my eyes and look into the audience; all the people seem to be casting wary glances at each other.

"Now let's see, who would we like to hear from first?" I arch a brow at the ditzy boob lady while she 'pretends' to search for me, "Ah-ha! There you are!" She points a bony finger at me and beams, "Come on up Lorraine Lattanzi!"

Forcing myself not roll my eyes _again_, I rise gracefully from my seat and lift my chin high. I give a couple of waves to some families in the audience and blow a few kisses on my way up to the stage. The people clamor over each other to 'catch' my smooches and they shout in extreme excitement.

Once I'm seated across from Cimmira I cross my ankles and plaster on my best television smile.

She grins, "Well my, my, my! Don't you look stunning? I have to say if I weren't a girl I'd be all over you!" This earns me some wolf whistles and cat calls.

I smile sexily and lean back in my chair, "I can't help what I am."

"Indeed! So, tell me, anyone you want to talk about from back home?" She smirks slyly, "Any boys perhaps?"

I laugh, "Not any that are still alive!"

All the people in the audience laugh and clap at my retort, as does Cimmira herself. "Well said my dear! So how about that dress? It's absolutely gorgeous! You have to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

I shrug, "If my looks are anything like my fighting skills then I suppose I'd have to agree with you. Pretty top notch."

Her brows shoot up, "Oh really? Do you hear that people? This girl is a fighter! I've got my money on you babe!"

The audience cheers joyously, and I relish in their applause. Somewhere out there, I've got a sponsor edging me on.

_**-Antherton D1-**_

Lorraine leaves the spotlight after her three minutes are up and it's my turn. As I pass her going up the stage I think about smacking her ass, but decide against it. After all, I'm getting ready to be broadcasted on national television; I wouldn't want any scratches on my face.

Cimmira smiles at me like I'm a piece of meat and I give her a taste of her own medicine by providing her the weirdest predator grin I can muster. She doesn't seem to take it too well; in fact she scoots back in her chair a bit. I make myself comfortable in my seat across from her as she laughs and makes some stupid joke about me that no one seems to understand.

"My goodness you're a big boy! You must work out, yeah?"

I cock a brow at her, "Steroids don't hurt either."

She bursts into a fit of contagious laughter and all I can do is shake my head at her oblivious nature. She flutters a hand to her freakishly enormous and probably rock solid chest. _There is no way in Hell those are real._ "So I hear that you come from a long line of victors! Care to share a little personal info?"

"Well, my dad, brother, and grandfather are all victors, but if I were to name everyone in my family that has been a victor then they'd have to reschedule the upcoming Games, 'cause it would take a while!"

The audience screams with adoration and I nod and wave,

"So does that mean everyone else in the competition should probably just give up?"

I chuckle, "What do you think it means?"

"Right you are baby! You hear that Panem? Antherton Desby is the favorite in this race! He's got the pedigree to back it up!"

The crowd claps with enthusiasm, "By the way, that suit is dazzling on you! Literally! Do happen to be wearing your token somewhere?"

I roll up the cuff on my right arm and stick out my hand so they can see the jewel encrusted leather band around my wrist.

"Oh my! Well that's just dandy! Is it a family heirloom?"

I nod and try not to seem surprised that she was able to figure it out with a brain as small as what hers was bound to be, "My great, great grandmother's. It was given to her after she became victor."

"Aw, how nice. Tell me, how do you feel about that training score, a 9, I believe it was?"

My fists clench and I grind my teeth in anger, "Someone could go fetch that Avox that cleans up my room, he would know how I _feel_ about it."

For a moment she's speechless, and then she stammers, "Uh, well… haha! Very humorous! You're a funny one!"

My eyes dart over to the side, and I contemplate my prior statement, "Wait… nevermind," I look at her with a slight smile on my face, "He's dead now. I guess he wouldn't know."

_**-Starr D2-**_

Oh my God, Antherton is nuts. At first I'd thought he was simply overly cocky, but now I realize that he is just insane.

I watch silently and pick at my red dress in anxiety. His interview is almost over; what if I mess up? What if I say the wrong things? Oh well, at least I look nice.

My stylist said that a long time ago the dress might have been similar to that of a Flapper's. I wasn't exactly ecstatic about wearing something that a person called a 'Flapper' might wear, but when I saw the dress it was love at first sight. It plunges down into a V cut and the top straps connect behind my neck leaving it backless. A red, silky ribbon is laced down my back through loop holes at the sides of my dress to keep it tight in the front. The hem stops about four inches past my feet and I'm left with a small train. There are thousands of strings threaded through maroon beads that cover the whole dress. I can sift my fingers through them like I would grass.

My hair is up in an elegant, braided knot- exposing the length of my throat. The cosmetics are kept on the down low; they're natural and meek, consisting of mascara, nude lip gloss, blush, and cat eye makeup.

Like I said, at least I look nice.

"Can Starr Delby please come up to the stage?"

I wince when I hear that woman's voice call my name, but I rise out of my chair and try to maneuver onto the stage without tripping. I make it to the chair minus any stumbling, and place myself in the seat.

"Oh, my gosh! You are an absolute blossom!" She reaches over to me and I resist the urge to jerk away as she pinches my knee, "Just had to make sure you were real!"

"Thank you." I smile invitingly and throw the audience a star worthy grin. They clap and seem to agree with Cimmira.

"Let's get down to it! I hear that you're the Mayor's daughter, and hailing from District Two I'd say that you've got quite a load on your shoulders. Must be hard on you, yeah?"

"Not at all; if anything it drives me. I come from a family that has never tasted anything but success. I just want to try out the sense of achievement in a new field."

She nods, "But you were reaped. Why not volunteer?"

I shift, "There were no real plans, but I had been preparing to volunteer when I turned eighteen. You know, that few extra years to mature mentally and physically. No matter though, I can't change any of it- and now that it has happened I couldn't be any prouder to serve my country. The Capitol is deserving of loyalty and I've always thought the Games should be fought with more enthusiasm. I'm here to bring all this and more to the plate."

She leans back in her chair, "Do you see?" She stretches out her hand towards me, "This is why so many people from District Two win. True determination, grit, and all out passion for the game. And loyalty no less! After you win you should consider following in your father's footsteps. I'm sure you'd make the greatest Mayor Panem has ever seen! Maybe even land a job in the Capitol with that attitude!"

The audience roars like I haven't heard yet, and some even get to their feet. That's got to be a minimum of ten sponsors, and a max of about thirty. I smile and blow a few kisses. Talk about brownie points.

"So tell me about life in general as the Mayor's child."

She's going to keep playing the Mayor bit, isn't she? "Well, really it's not anything unlike a normal kid's life. My dad has a job that he gets up for in the morning, and comes back from when he's done. A lot of people assume his occupation is demanding, but my whole family gets involved and it's actually truly interesting." I look towards a camera and wink, "Love ya, dad!"

"So, is it harder for you to get a date?"

I laugh, "I don't need a guy, I can take care of myself just fine."

She cracks a smile, "Well maybe there's someone out there who needs YOU to take care of THEM."

The crowd chuckles lightly and I shake my head, "Isn't that why we were talking about me becoming Mayor?"

The audience claps and cheers happily and I can't think of anything else to do but smile. Cimmira beams in delight, "Quite a charming young lady we have here! Wouldn't you say? So what do you think about your fellow tributes."

My breath hitches slightly. If I don't answer this question right, it could cost me. "I… I really have to say that it's the other way around. Not so much what I think of them, but what they do of me."

She arches a blue brow, "And what would that be?"

I cock my head to the side, "That I was born to lead, to achieve, and to fight. I'm already a Victor in ways most don't understand; competition is in my blood. It's simply habit for me to win, and like a lot of people know- habits are really hard to break, practically impossible actually."

_**-Zane D2-**_

This white bow tie is beginning to feel tight around my throat; I have to readjust it a number of times before I feel like I can breathe regularly again. I watch curiously as my district partner converses with Cimmira; she's brown nosing the Government. It's not uncommon for a tribute to 'admire' the audience or the Capitol as a whole, but to complement our leaders is something else in itself. I couldn't help but feel that Starr could be the deadliest of this year's Career group.

For one she's the most level headed of the group, for another she's the most manipulative. It wouldn't surprise me at all if Lorraine and that D5 girl met with death at the hands of Starr.

Pretty soon her three minutes are up and it's my turn to march across the stage and take a seat across from the ditzy, blue haired woman. When Starr struts past me I can hear her whisper, 'Good luck'. I don't say anything in return- she doesn't mean it anyway.

When I reach my chair, instead of sitting down, I walk over to Cimmira, take her hand, and give it a small kiss. Her tan face goes red as the audience springs to its feet and claps wildly. I laugh and take a seat in my chair. I look back to see that even some of my fellow tributes are clapping for my charming act.

Cimmira lifts a hand to her cheek and chuckles lightly, "Oh my. That was very nice of you young man, and might I add, I approve of the color of your tux. Your stylist is brilliant!"

Like the interviewer, my outfit is completely white, the exception being the soft green dress shirt beneath my jacket.

I grin, "I'm sure he appreciates that."

"So, they say you're called Wolf, I already know one reason as to why," She lifts the hand I kissed in the air and twirls it around smugly, making the majority of the crowd laugh, "Are there any other reasons?"

I shrug, "Can't really say; it's just what I've always been called. Since before I can remember people have called me that; I suppose it's a name to go with the face kind of deal. I do have pointy canines."

She hops up and down in her seat, "Show us!"

I pull up my lip and she leans in a little too far for my comfort so she can get a better look at them, "Oh, it's true! Does this mean you're an animal?" She asks like it's a naughty question.

I let my lip go and sit back a bit, "Uh, not exactly."

She puts an elbow on her knee and rests her chin in her hand, "Come on, spill it! Give us some details about your love life!"

I can't help but laugh at that one, "Not much to tell, quite bleak in fact."

Her eyes go wide, like she's hurt, "You mean there's no one back home waiting for you?"

I shrug, "Not anyone that I know of."

The audience seems to murmur and someone calls out, "I'll be here for you!" Everyone laughs and I wave at the lavender haired girl who confessed her 'love' for me.

Cimmira smiles, "Back off girls! This one is all mine!"

Uh, isn't there a name for adults who prey on children? I think it's Pedophile; obviously I don't say this to the Interviewer.

She leans on the arm of her seat, "So tell us something about you. What is something that you can do that you do really well that no one else knows about?"

I frown uncomfortably, "I… uh" What the Hell? I'm getting ready to go into the Games, so what if I tell them? I straighten myself up, "I can sing."

Her mouth drops open, "You lie!"

I shake my head, "Nope. I can sing better than a Canary."

She puts a hand to her chest and looks around in disbelief, "You have to sing something for us! Right now!"

I put up my hands, "Ha-ha, no way."

"Aw, come on!" She turns to the audience, "Don't you guys want to hear him sing?" They jump up and down and clap wildly; shouting so much at the same time that I can't catch one word of anything. Cimmira gets this pleading look in her eyes and sticks out her lower lip, "Please? Look, everyone wants you to do it!"

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head, "I can't." Looking out at the audience I decide to provide a compromise, "Tell you what I'll do though- if someone out there wants to sponsor me that person can send me any song during the Games and I'll sing it then, okay?"

Cimmira smacks her hands together, "What a wonderful idea!" I incline my head and cross my legs, "She goes on, "So what is it that's going to drive you during the Games? What is your reason for winning?"

I pick at one of my white dress shoes thoughtfully, "I can't say that there is a lot for me to go back to if I win, but life is too precious to just throw away. No matter who you are or what. I don't believe in giving up. When my parents and sibling died, I could have just lied down on some tracks and let a train run over me, but I didn't. Even though living without them hurts worse than any physical injury I could ever hope to sustain, I know my family wouldn't want me trash everything. I have to live the life my sister never got to- and the life my parents couldn't finish… or at least I have to try."

Her eyes seem to glisten with actual sadness, "Well, I have to say Baby, all bets are on you."

I smile brightly, "If that's true then there's some money to be won."

She chuckles, and becomes all bubbly once more, "So if you win, what do you plan on doing when you return home?"

I grin, "As little as possible!"

_**-Claire D3-**_

"Claire De Leon, please come on up!"

I stand rather uncomfortably in the incredibly short, curve hugging, dark blue dress; I feel like it barely covers anything, but there are black tassels hanging off of it all the way around the bottom and they semi-cover about three more inches of my thighs and that makes me feel better. My shiny black hair is pulled up into a messy, but sexy, knot and strands of it have been pulled out to frame my face. I walk all the way across the stage in my three inch black heels, and flip some bangs out of my eyes. My stylist was right, even though I have said nothing yet, I already have the approval of most of the males in the audience. The cat calls seem to be limitless, and when I sit Cimmira has to ask everybody to quiet down so she can talk.

She turns to me dramatically, "Are you hearing what I'm hearing? Now that's what I call a standing ovation! And you haven't even done anything!"

I shrug, "Well, that's the first time that has ever happened to me, so I don't really know what to say."

Cimmira grins, "Trust me, it won't be the last. So tell us about your brother, he was a victor, yes? How is he?"

I recline in the chair and cross my legs, "That is correct. Rane is doing very well; it's because of him that my family lives the life we do now; I couldn't be more thankful for him."

"Did you ever feel any pressure to volunteer because of him?"

I purse my lips, "No, in fact, it's the opposite. He's very protective and gets worried about me easily. As you can probably tell by now, I'm not an exceedingly spectacular person in ordinary form."

She grins, "I'm guessing that means you have a couple of tricks up your sleeve?"

I grin, "Well, I'm lacking in sleeves at the moment, but when it comes time for the Games, I think everyone is going to get the chance to see what I'm truly capable of."

"So tell me, you're a beautiful girl; any love interests back home?"

I smile a little shyly; I could lie, but decide against it, "Not for me."

Her mouth drops open, "But why not? You're in the prime of your youth! Your skin is flawless, you hair is shiny and manageable, and you're gorgeous! It should be a crime to keep that beauty under lock and key!"

The audience claps and I just laugh, "I don't think so, things like that don't matter to me. I'm a very practical girl; what I don't need, I don't have." I get some sounds of disappointment from the guy part of the crowd.

She throws her hands up, "We've got another one folks! Yet another girl who doesn't need male companionship! What's the world coming to?"

I smile exasperatedly, "It just goes to show that I won't need as much as others in the arena." I direct the next part of my statement toward the female Careers, "I don't need anyone else to help me out in a fight, and I don't need someone to cry on when stuff doesn't go the way I want it to. I'm a realist, I see things the way they are and I don't waste any time groveling over any particular situation."

Her brows curve in curiosity, "So you don't plan on making an alliance with anyone?"

I place my hands on my knees and knit my fingers together, "I can't really say anything about that yet. Like I said, whatever happens- happens."

"Okay, so enough about everybody else, what about you? How are you enjoying the Capitol?"

The corners of my mouth pull up, "It's unlike anything I've ever seen- in my dreams or in the real world. The people are what make it interesting though, everyone is so unique and a little bit wild, but I guess that's what separates them from us; they're willing to try things that would intimidate us. And the architecture is breathtaking; I can't express how grateful I am that I got to see it at least once."

The audience whoops and hollers; although it sickens me to say these things, there's no way I can get away from here with sponsors if I don't brag on them.

"So what about your fellow tributes- have anything you want to say about them?"

I smirk, "Nothing that wouldn't make me a target."

The audience seems to gasp at my combative comment, like I just made this a personal challenge. Cimmira giggles, "I like your spirit! But come on! Give us something tastier! Just do this for me, take a look at your peers and tell me you don't see one boy that grabs your attention."

I feel a flush creeping up my neck and spilling into my cheeks,

"Oh," She does this shimmy thing with her shoulders and tucks her chin, "is there someone you're thinking of right now?"

A little too quickly I jump to defend myself, "No!"

She winks, "Riiiiggght. Okay, I'll leave the topic alone. Let's talk about something else, say you win the Games, what does an ambitious girl like you plan on doing with all that dough?"

My brows furrow, "I haven't really thought about that yet. I've always wanted a vintage sports car."

She laughs, "A car? Isn't that a guy's dream?"

I grin, "Say what you like, but Chevilles are sexy as Hell!"

I'm rewarded with loud shouts of approval, clapping and more whistles.

"So you're into cars, huh?"

I nod, and start to feel pretty passionate about the subject, "I would build the engine myself, do the paint job, design the interior." I point my finger at her, "And it would be jet black and have the absolute best sound system in it of any car on the planet."

For a moment the audience is completely silent, then I hear this, "Holy shit... that's hot," and the people errupt in applause and laughter.

_**-Newton D3-**_

I think Claire's done the best so far; maybe it's because she's my district partner. She definetly knows how to work the male part of the audience, even i'm intriuged by her hobbies and personality. What she realizes, which most girls don't, is that very few guys out there truly want the platinum blonde, head cheerleader, makeup clad pagent girl. When you're that attractive just being yourself you've got some power. I know she won't go into that arena without sponsors- sure, they'll all be dudes, but I doubt gender matters much to anyone when it comes to sponsorship.

As we pass each other walking across the stage, I give her a small smile. Her face becomes contorted with some kind of emotion, and I don't have to ask to know what she's thinking. Claire has become more withdrawn since the reapings; I saw a little bit of her softer side right before the chariot race, but that was the last and only time.

I feel my face heat in embarassment; just thinking about her makes me blush. This is one of those times that I'm thankful no one can read my mind.

I sit myself down across from the interviewer in the big, cushioned chair,

"How are you doing, sweet pea?"

I straighten my posture and fold my hands, "Rather well, actually."

She grins, "I hope I'm not sounding rude, but I just can't understand how such a... docile looking creature like yourself got such a high training score."

Although my stylist forced me to wear contacts for the interview, I have the strangest urge to push some invisible glasses up my nose, "Well, I can not talk about the experience. I am fairly certain it's classified."

Her brows arch, "Yes, it is, but you can tell us a little bit about yourself. Do you have some type of hidden superpower?"

I smile, "Does highly advanced brain power count?"

She cackles, "Of course!" She crosses her legs and leans back in her chair, "I understand that you have an extrodinary IQ."

I nod, "I graduated school four years ago, and at the top of my class."

Her mouth drops, "But you're only seventeen!"

I shrug, "I skipped two grades and did extra school work in my free time so I could finish up sooner."

She puts a fist on her hip, "You're telling me! How does that affect your love life?"

"I don't have one."

She giggles, "Seems to be everyone's story tonight."

"I suppose so."

She clears her throat, "Tell me about your family, what are your parents like?"

"They're very kind people; my mother has a very quiet nature about her and my dad is brilliant."

"He works for the CBI, yes?"

My head bobs up and down, "It's a demanding job, but I get to help him with invetions, so it's pretty fun too."

Cimmira's mouth twists, "So is there anything that you've seen in the Capitol that was made by you or your dad?"

"Quite a few things actually. The peacekeepers around here are equipped with brand new tasers that my father drew the plans for. They're cheaper because of the material. Most would think that's dangerous because of the heat the weapon produces when it's fired, but my dad found ways around the issue."

She smiles, "That's neat! Is he your inspiration- your role model?"

"Yep. I haven't met one other person in the whole world that has made such an impression on me; he's everything that I want to be when I grow up."

Her brow creases, "So are you going to follow in his footsteps? As far as an occupation goes, I mean?"

"It's more than likely, I can't see myself doing anything else."

"Well I think it's wonderful that your urge to make such a large push in the scientific feild is so strong. You seem like a very bright young man."

I smile and she continues to ask me more questions about my life and myself. Most of them I only hear half of, and I end up stumbling over my words. I probably sound kind of nerdy, but that's what I want. If I can just land a place among some Careers then it would more than double my chances of survival. When it's time for me to leave my seat, I feel out of breath and my hands are shaking. The torment of having to sit in front of that audience hit me full force. I hadn't felt nervous because I was so shocked by the large crowd; now my thoughts ran loose in my head- they battered at my brain: _Did you say the wrong things? Did you give the wrong look? Does anyone out there want to sponsor you? Will you live long enough to see your parents again? Will you live long enough to make it past the first ten minutes of the Games?_

_**-Hazel D4-**_

My sparkly teal dress clings to my body tightly; the material has a scratchy feeling about it- but as my stylist says, beauty is pain. I shift uncomfortably in my atire and think about the angle I should take. All the girls so far have appeared sexy, humerous, or confident; I suppose I could always take on the mysterious, quiet, girl next door act. I've never been extremely outgoing to begin with. Sure, I have friends back home, but I'm by no means the prom queen of my school. Then again, 'quiet' isn't the _true_ me. When I was with Gia I could be my wild and emotional self.

Absently I lift a hand to my neck and play with the silver necklace around my throat. I twist the cool, thin chain around my fingers while biting the insides of my cheeks contemplatively. Glancing over at Ray I see that he is as stoic as ever. In the few days I've known him it's come to my knowledge that my district partner is a guy of few words. I suppose that's a good thing though, I don't want to be friends with someone that might kill me... or that I could kill.

He senses my gaze and before I can look away I catch sight of a fleeting smile grace his lips. The action is so quick I have a hard time telling whether or not it really happened.

I look back up at the stage and see that Newton is wrapping up his interview. Cimmira shakes his hand with a broad smile on her face and watches him exit the spotlight. Instinctively I flinch when I hear her call my name. Lately people shouting my name has become something of a bother.

I rise out of my seat steadily and allow a slow flush to creep up into my face. Pressing my lips together I stride over to Cimmira in my high heels and grin modestly. A couple people whistle and quite a few clap. Giving a tiny wave to the crowd I take a seat in the chair opposite of the interviewer. It's then that I'm struck by the size of her chest. I don't mean to stare in the first place, but come on. Awkwardly I turn my attention toward the audience and try to preoccupy myself by providing my most sincere smiles to the cameras.

"So, Hazel Cresta, let's start off with a little bit about yourself. Give us an idea of who you are; what do you like to do in your spare time?"

I turn the corners of my mouth up slightly and urge my eyes to glitter with the sheen of unshed tears. My stylist told me that if I could make my eyes water and then blink a couple of times 'it would bring out the sparkle in my own two baby blues'.

My answer is immediate, "I'd have to say spending time with my friend Gia. She's my rock."

"Gia Lindor?" She arches her brows, "That is the girl who was originally reaped, yes?"

"Yes."

"Why did you volunteer for her?"

My fingers twitch involuntarily in my lap. I don't want to tell her things that are personal, I don't want the Capitol to know everything about me. I feel like just sitting here is a violation against me. Pushing a lock of loose hair behind my ear I continue the shirade, "Well, she's very ill. She has a form of cancer that if allowed to spread could..." I search for the right words, "Well, it could hurt her pretty bad. Anyway, when my escort called her name, it was like the entire world stopped turning. All the people in it faded into the background, it was just her and me, you know? I couldn't let her go into the games like that. Her whole life has been filled with nothing but catscans and MRIs; she's been fighting since she was diagnosed at age ten. I think... during this year's reaping- someone was telling me that it was my turn to battle for her survival."

The audience erupted into a almost painful bout of applause, even Cimmira began clapping. Leaning forward she gave my kneecap a small squeeze, "You've got a brave heart, Hun."

I shook my head, "I don't think so. Gia's the one that's brave, she's always been fearless. For as physically damaging as her condition is, I don't have even half her spirit."

"So modest." She leaned back in exasperation. "You obviously don't know yourself very well. Look at the facts: You volunteered for the Hunger Games, you got an eight in the Gamemaker Session, and your here all dolled up and ready to go! Don't sit there and try to convince me you haven't got spirit."

The audience yelled in approval and I just kind of smiled. I didn't feel courageous right now, "Okay, I won't argue with you about it."

She laughs, "That's more like it! Besides, winning runs in the family!"

I feel my breath hitch when she makes the reference to my late aunt. "Yep."

"Annie. You look just like her you know; are there any more similarities the audience should know about?"

I want to leap up and smack her across the face! How dare she insinuate that I would fall into a bloodlust like state and go on a wild rampage killing people! I try to keep from spitting my next words, "No- there are not."

She seems to back off a bit, and it's then I realize my fists are clenched and my shoulders are hunched. Letting my body relax into the chair I chuckle lightly, "My aunt was one of the most notorious victors ever to win the Games. My victory won't be nearly as... jaw dropping as hers was."

Cimmira smiles doubtfully, "I see, but you plan on winning, yes?"

I cock my head to the side, "Of course I do. Don't get me wrong, I have faults, but I'm the kind of person that takes weaknesses and turns them into the rival skills of another's strengths."

"Bold words."

I shrug a little, "Perhaps, but the truth usually is bold."

"So tell us a little interesting fact about yourself; something few people know."

My brows knit in concentration, "I don't partake in my Districts usually activities."

"What do you mean?"

I smile, "I've never once tried to catch a fish."

She laughs, "I can't say that I blame you! It sounds disgusting!" Cimmira wrinkles her nose in distaste and I can't disagree with her opinion.

"I don't like the smell, I just like to eat them."

The blue haired wench giggles, "The feeling is mutual!"

"Is there anything you'd like to say to the folks back home before your time is up?"

My heart skips a beat at those words. _Before my time is up... _does she not realize the impact that question has on me? My mouth works, but I can't speak. What do I tell them? That I love them? No, that's too... final.

Rubbing my forehead lightly I look into a camera lense, "Don't worry about me, I've got everything under control. And Gia- I'll be seeing you soon."

She asks me a couple of unneccesary questions to wrap up the interview.

They usher me off the stage and I give a few waves to the audience as I exit the platform. Ray rises stoicly out of his seat and as we pass each other I make an effort to ignore him. I can't try to be friendly with anyone now.

_**-Ray D4-**_

My legs are unsteady; strange, you would think that since I practically live on my dad's boat I'd have incomparable balance. My journey to the torture chair seems to take a million years. I want to jog a little to get there; I feel like this slow pace is making me look foolish. Girls begin to wail in approval- their reaction to me makes my face flush. I force myself to look at them and wave. They leap up and start to shout "I love you, Ray!"

These confessions confound me. Why would they like me? I haven't even done anything yet. At this point I realize what's happening- I've become a boy toy. _Great._ I don't want to be a boy toy! Absently, I rake my fingers through my hair. This causes the gel to seperate the carefully styled locks. Quickly I jerk my hand away; I swear I can hear my stylist screaming in frustration. Needless to say I keep my gaze from wondering too much, I wouldn't want to make eye contact with the prep team.

They dressed me up to look like, and I quote, 'A sexy sailor'. I have on a soft, long-sleeved, buttond down; it's white and the material is made of cotton. It's open at the neck and exposes a tiny bit of my chest. My instincts tell me to do up those top few buttons- I must resist. My pants are a simple brown color and tucked into a pair of boots.

When I reach Cimmara, I shake her hand and smile broadly. She takes a little too kindly to my offer of politness. My skin crawls at the sight of her 'Gearing up'. Hastily, I sit in my chair across from her. The audience is still cheering like mad, and I smile- not knowing what else to do.

"Listen to those girls! What do you think it is about you that has them so worked up?"

I shrug, "I can't say."

A young lady with maroon colored hair stands up and puts her hands around her mouth so her voice is amplified in my direction, "Bullshit! You're sexy as Hell!" The female part of the audience backs her with a huge bout of applause and whistles.

I chuckle uncomfortably and feel my cheeks heat, "Thanks?"

"Anytime!" She shouted.

The pretty girl sat back down and stuck her nose in the air, as if she was proud of herself.

"There's your answer!" Cimmara giggles and leans forward to squeeze my bicep, "Where do you get muscles like those? Do you work out?"

My flush deepens, "Not exactly. I just work."

This earns me a few laughs. "What do you do for a living?"

I can't help but smile at that question; what does every boy my age do in district four? "I fish on my dad's boat."

She grins, "Oh! So you're not even in a costume! You're the real deal! A perfectly tanned, true sailor!"

I laugh, "I can't say that I would even want to be a real sailor. They've got dirty mouths."

She cocks a delicate brow, "So you are a gentleman then?"

"I hope so."

The blue haired female chuckles, "You are- whether you like it or not. I imagine that you got that side of you from your father?"

My heart beat stutters at the mention of my dad; I open my mouth to speak, but find it hard to come up with words- or at least anything that might sound coherent, "Uh, yeah. Any good trait in me is because of him."

"Aw, I'm sensing a deep connection to him. What about your mom."

I shook my head, "She's dead. She passed away while giving birth to me."

Her lips turn down and her gaze takes on a softer appearance, "I'm truly sorry about that. I'm sure that she would be proud of your strength though."

I laugh lightly, "I don't know, there are times where I think I can do better. But, it's not about me."

"Oh, but I think it is. You are a tribute in the Hunger Games. Most say they're drawn to you because you're like another Finnik."

I reel back slightly, "... They do?"

She throws her hands up, "Of course they do! Haven't you heard?"

My eyes dart over to the audience, "Not really."

"Hm, well that's strange. Anyways, yes- you're practically the spitting image of Finnik, a past victor. Which must do well for your romantic life, riiiight?"

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, "I guees so."

"You guess so? Don't you have a whole slew of girlfriends back home?"

Briefly I recall the day of the reaping; that little girl that had asked me to wait for her to grow up so we could date. I laugh at the memory and this gets me an odd look from Cimmara.

"What?" She asks, brimming with curiosity.

I laugh again, "Oh, nothing. So far I can think of only one girl that has ever asked me to go out with her."

Cimmara claps excitedly, "Oh! Is she pretty?"

I grin, "Adorable. I have a feeling she'd be very upset if I didn't mention her. Hey Teal!" I give a small wave to the cameras. I'm sure that the twelve year old girl is watching and I can almost see her squealing with delight. She's the kind that will run to school the next day and tell everyone about being mentioned on television.

The interview concludes with her bombarding me with the most awkward questions known to man. When I leave my chair to return back to my fellow tributes I can't help but think about my dad. What's he doing right now? Did he watch my interview? I hope not. I don't want the last time he sees me before the Games to be an act.

_**-Moniqu D5-**_

The dress I'm wearing sparkles horrendously. Although I approve of the colors- red and black- I can't wait to take it off. Why do we even have to do this shit? Can't we just get it over with and start the Games already? I just want to fight, not act like a celebrity. My fingers itch to wrap around a throat and squeeze.

My sickly partner coughs into his fist. I glare at him with contempt. _What a bloodbath_. He was sooo going to die. I positively loathe weak people.

Timothy must sense my staring, because he turns his head to look back at me pointedly. You know, if he wasn't so uncaring about this, he might do well in the Games. I could just kind of tell that he might have been popular at one time, maybe even a bit toned. Quickly I turn my eyes away and watch the interview between D4 boy and Cimmara finish up. I think his name is Jay or Ray or something like that. I don't know, I haven't really paid much attention.

He takes his seat alongside the other tributes and I cross the stage with as much poise as I can stand. Once I've sat down across from Cimmara, a wave of nausia washes over me. I bring a hand up to block a particular area of her from my vision- GOD her boobs are grotesque! She could literally knock someone out with those hooters.

A smirk plays upon her lips, like she thinks it's funny or something.

"Nice to meet you, Monique!"

She stretches out a hand and I shake it firmly, keeping my mouth closed so I don't say anything stupid.

"So, I hear you're quite the little devil. First that stunt with the Chariots, and then that training score!" She fans herself dramatically.

I narrow my eyebrows at her, "Devil yes, little... well I guess that's just a technicality."

She grins nervously, "So what was going through your head during the Chariot race? Were you afraid? How did you come up with that idea? It's never been done!"

Lifting my chin ever so slightly, I fold my hands together in my lap and begin to explain, "It was all instinct mostly. I knew that if I wanted to stand out I would have to do something absolutely jaw dropping. The horse was right there, the oppurtunity was right there, so I took the chance before I lost my nerve. I'm a very spur of the moment kind of person. As to how I felt about it..." My pupils dialate at the sudden rush I feel from recollecting that day, "I've never done anything so thrilling. I loved every minute of it. I can't wait to do more things like that in the Games."

She smiled evily, "Glad to hear were going to get a show. So tell us about life back home, any love interests you left behind? Or simply someone that you care about?"

I scoff, "That's absurd. Of course not."

Her eyes dart over to the camera's real quick and then back to me, "Okaaay, what about your family? Don't you miss anyone from your family? Or friends?"

My answer is abrupt and without hesitation, "There was no challenge in my prior life. Nothing was exciting, and I was surrounded by weaklings. My parents are rich, so it's not like I ever lacked anything, but there was something missing. And friends? No, I don't miss my friends. I doubt that they are sad I'm here, so why stress myself about them?"

The Boob Lady works her jaw in thought, "So why did you volunteer? If not for, family or friends, then why?"

Inhaling deeply, I lean back and take a look at the audience, "Like I said before, I was surrounded by weak people. The kind that you would not only let you step on them, but the kind that would ask for it. I want to prove to Panem that there is at least one person in D5 that can play the Games without an IQ over 150. As a plus, I'm an adrenaline junkie. I like the rush, the thrill, the competition. I want people to know my name."

Cimmara laughs, "Oh, Honey, they know your name- trust me!"

I arch my brows, "Indeed. You see, in many ways, I've already won. People will remember me no matter what. Not just because of the Chariot stunt, but for reasons that this nation has yet to see. I garuntee you that I will make these Games the most memorable yet. Win or lose, it'll be fun, I promise."

She scoots back in her seat, "That sounds wonderful, Dear."

_**-Timothy D5 *Bloodbath*-**_

I don't make any attempt to appear strong, or funny, or charasmatic in any way. I sit down across from Cimmara and answer every question truthfully. She asks silly stuff in my opinion. Who cares about what food I like? Who cares who my friends are (or in my case, who they used to be)? When she inquires about my disease, I retort without emotion. It has eaten me. Everything I am. Everything I was.

I'm here to win a different kind of Game. Only one other person know about it, my brother. As I'm exiting the spotlight, it occurs to me that I should say something to him. Breathing in deeply- I march over to a camera guy. I look right in the lense, and allow a soft kind of calmness wash over me. I pretend the camera is my little brother; it might as well be, I know he's watching.

"I'm so sorry, Gabe. I wish I could change things." I run a hand through my thinning hair, "I want so badly to have what we used to." My voice drops to a whisper, "Please forgive me... I love you, bro."

_**-Maia D6-**_

"What a beautiful dress! You look magical!"

The floaty gold dress hugs my curves perfectly, and varying layers of pinks and greens go all the way down to the floor to cover my gold pumps. I smile at Cimarra scincerely, "Thank you. My stylist did a fantastic job. So it's all thanks to him."

"I don't know, you kind of tie it all together! And that hair! Is that your natural shade?"

I twist a firery red curl around one of my fingers, "Yes, it's the only thing really unique about me."

"It's gorgeous! You are so lucky- most people spend hundreds of dollars for color like that! So tell me, how did you feel when you were reaped?"

My forehead wrinkled in thought, "Actually, I was surprisingly okay." I let out a small laugh, "I don't know why, or what happened. I just kind of took it with a grain of salt, you know?"

"I could imagine that's probably the best way. Tell me about your family. Who's back home?"

Crossing my legs, I get myself comfortable and begin to tell her about my parents and younger sibiling, "Well, first off, my dad is dead. He was killed when I was thirteen."

Cimmara pouts, "I'm sorry to hear that." You wouldn't be if you knew that it was a Peacekeeper that killed him, I think blandly.

"Not as sorry as I am. Anyway, my mom is someone to talk about. She's a one of a kind role model. She's a big believer in allowing my brother and I personal freedom. I mean, she's firm, but fair. She taught me where the line between sticking up for myself and becoming a bully is drawn. I'm not going to say that she's the best mom in the world, but she's the only one I would ever want."

Tilting her head to the side, the interviewer smiles fondly, "How sweet. What about your brother?"

Grinning happily, I take a look at the camera's, "He's the biggest sweet heart in the world. I wish he could do this interview for me," I glance back at Cimmara, "He's a thousand times better with words than I could ever dream to be."

Cimmara laughs, "No, you're doing fabulous. So tell me, any guys you left behind?"

I laugh bitterly, "No. I have too many beautiful friends to have a boyfriend. No one ever sees me when I'm with them."

The audience makes sounds that suggest they disagree with me. I hate that I almost feel happy about that. I couldn't care less about what these people think.

"What? With that hair?" She flings her hand dismissivally, "Girl, you could have the face of an ogre and still rock the Catwalk. It's all in the hair! You just have to learn how to work it."

I shrug, "I might give that a shot when I get back home." Everyone today has said something about going back home, the difference between me and them is I didn't say it because I thought it would get me more sponsors, I said it because I meant it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

I almost snort; isn't that what she's been doing this whole time? Instead of saying anything like that, I simply nod. It must be pretty personal if she thinks she has to ask permission.

"How did you get that limp? And that... eye problem?"

My mouth almost falls open. I can't beleive she asked so boldly! Sure, people stare, and they call me names, but that don't ask like that! They know it really hurts me to remember it.

I squeeze my upper arm fearfully, "Um, I had an accident. I wasn't watching where I was going when I was crossing the street and a... a motorcycle hit me."

Cimmara's eyes pop open, "A motorcycle?"

I nod, "Yeah. The rider had just turned the corner- he didn't see me. But, the eye, that's not from the accident, I was born with this."

She seems to be distracted by my lazy eye for a moment, then looks away quickly. "I'm truly sorry about that. It doesn't impair your skills does it?"

I grin, "You guys will have to wait and see."

_**- Erik D6-**_

Glancing sideways, I adjust my tie. It's like a choke collar around my throat; the more tug a it- the tighter it becomes. Swallowing loudly, I get an unusual look from the D7 girl. Then she smiles, "Are you nervous?"

I'm almost too stunned to say anything; my mouth drops open and closes, "Uh, yeah, a little bit."

She chuckles, "Don't worry. I'm not trying to get a read on you or anything like that. I'm just bored, so I thought I'd ask." She looks at me and grins, "Besides, who knows- this could be the last normal conversation either of us will ever have."

I never considered that, "I suppose so. What's your name?"

"D7 Girl." I draw back a little, maybe I was being to personal or something. Her eyes widen some, "It was a joke. My name is Pheobe. What's your's?"

"Erik."

Pheobe holds out a pale, delicate hand, "Nice to meet you."

Eyeing her doubtfully, I reach towards her to shake hands. Her grip is firm and stronger than I expected. Quickly she pulls away and returns her attention to the interview, "Makes you feel alone doesn't it?"

My forehead wrinkles in thought, "Yeah, I also feel like I'm a hundred years old. I mean- I'm not saying that my bones hurt, but I definetly feel like I could lay down and sleep forever."

She nods and that ends our conversation.

Finally, my name is called and I make my way over to the interviewer. I sit myself down across from her and get comfortable. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.

"Well, we're almost half way through the tributes! How does it feel to be right smack dab in the middle?" Cimmara's grin stretches a little too widely across her face.

"Let's just say I've had plenty of time to sit down and stress over this."

She cocks her head to the side, "Sorry. You have nothing to worry about though, you're absolutely adorable! You're practically too cute to be real!"

My cheeks take on a rosy color and I do my best to look 'unsheepish', "Thanks."

"You're very welcome you young thing! Now let's get past the formalities- how are you enjoying your time in the Capitol?"

I glance out at all the people sitting in the audience. Man, I could think of some things to say. How about, I HATE IT! I want to go home! This is barbaric! Instead I settle for something slightly less combative, "It's incredible. If the guy who wrote the dictionary had seen this place before he started it, there would be about a thousand more words to learn. There's nothing that can compare- and that's the truth!"

The crowd appauds my statement and I resituate myself in my seat.

"Such kind words! You look like a nice boy though." Her eyes dance, "I bet it helps you get the girls, huh?"

I rub the back of my neck, "Maybe one or two. I know my good looks aren't doing it!"

She smacks my arm with her notes, "Don't talk like that! Besides, it's about what's on the inside."

I pat my stomach, "You don't have to tell me that!"

The audiecne laughs some and I smile at the cameras like I'm enjoying myself,

"You're so easy going! Is this the type of demeanor we should expect to see during the Games?"

My expression becomes more serious, "I'm sorry to say, but no. I'm not going to be cruel, but I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me. I'm plan on being as fair as possible."

Her attitude sobers, "That's good to hear. I have to say that my favorite tributes are the noble ones. They're the ones that win no matter what happens to them." She shakes her head and becomes cheery once again, "Speaking of- what do you think of your fellow tributes? Quite the bunch aren't they?"

I laugh, "All I can say is that I won't underestimate any of them."

"That's good to hear. What should they be thinking of you?"

My thoughts are erratic as I try to conjure up some brilliant thing to say, "Uh, that I'm full of surprises."

"Nice to know. I'll be rooting you on! Anyone back home that's on your side?"

Automatically, I think of my best friend and my brother, "Definetly. They'll be the first people I see when I get back home."

**Authors Note:**

**MY MICROSOFT WORD STOPPED WORKING! So sorry about spelling errors and grammar mistakes! **

**I swear I haven't given up on this story or anything! With school, computer problems, college applications, and other such wonderful things- I haven't been able to get much done. I've been writing little bits for this chapter on and off throughout the month. Thank you for keeping up with this story, though! Here's a trivia question for you guys! If you can get the answer right (put it in a review) I'll give you 5 points!**

**Trivia Question:**

**There is a book that recently came out that is a callaboration of writers/authors/critics discussing the subject material of the Hunger Games series. What is the name of this book? (Clue: I actually put the name of the book in one of my latest chapters)**


	26. The Interviews: Part Two

**Author's Note: This is the last chapter before the Games start! Yay! Now remember, the more you review, the longer your tribute's POV will be. I'm not trying to be unfair or anything, I just want to give the people who provide me feedback a bit of a reward. Again, some people didn't give me outfits so I had to make some things up. **

_POVs in this Chapter:_

_Everyone from District Seven to District Twelve_

_**-Phoebe D7-**_

My hands are slick with sweat; I keep having to dry them off on my dress. The tight, lacey material of my outfit has become wrinkled. I try to smooth out the kinks before Erik wraps up his interview- I'll never hear the end of it if my stylist sees what I've done to my gown.

Before I know it, the interviewer is calling my name. Whispering a prayer, I get up and walk with poise past Erik. I offer a small smile to him and he returns the gesture. He's nice; we might have been friends in another life.

I take a seat across from Cimmara and arrange my dress so that part of my legs are visible; just like my stylist instructed me to do.

"Hello, sweet pea! That is a wonderful dress! I haven't seen anything like it!"

I cock a brow at her; that's what she's said to every girl so far. What happened to a little thing called originality?

Instead of saying something sarcastic, I smile brightly, "Thank you."

She nods, "Of course! So why don't we start this interview with a little bit of information about yourself? Tell us something interesting about your life!"

"Well, my parents own a clothing store, I have a lot of friends, I love to laugh and joke around, school is one of my favorite places in the world, and dating just so happens to be a hobby of mine!"

Cimmara claps enthusiastically, "Oh, yay! Finally, we have someone that's had a few romantic experiences! Tell us, what's your boyfriend like?"

My brows knit together at the thought of Crane, my latest (and recently dumped) boy toy, "Well, I'm not exactly with anyone right now, but I just broke it off with a guy about ten days ago."

Her mouth pulls down sadly, "What? Why?"

I shrug, "It wasn't fun anymore. The more we got to know each other, the less there was to figure out. It was a mutual agreement; so we're still friends."

Big Boob Cimmara smiles brightly, "So you're currently looking for someone else to make eyes at, yes?"

I laugh whole heartedly, "No! I'm about to be thrust into a world where everyone wants to kill you! Romance is the least of my priorities!"

She frowns in disappointment, "Oh, I see." She straightens and grins cheerily once more, "Then tell us some more about your personal life! What is your family like? And your friends?"

I sigh dejectedly, is this an interview or an interogation? "Well, I have a nineteen year old brother, his name is Aether, and he lives with his fiance. I don't see very much of him. I also have a younger sister, she's eight. Her name is Aphrodite, but she's nothing like the goddess she's named after- she's really shy and very quiet. My mom and dad are very hard working people, my dad is the one who owns our clothing store. It was passed down through the family."

The rest of my time moves by in a flash. Altogether, I feel worried. How did I do? Did the people like me? They clapped a lot, and whistled, but does that really mean anything at all? Please, someone please sponsor me!

_**-Forrest D7-**_

I rise from my seat as the interviewer calls my name. There must be a million pairs of eyes on me, including the gazes of those watching this on television. My breathing is uneven, but my steps are sure. Phoebe passes me on the way back to her seat and I refuse to acknowledge her. I haven't talked to anyone since the train rides. What's the point? I'm not going to get attached. It may seem a bit cruel, but I'm pretending that each of my fellow tributes are just peices in a game. Like chess. There are the pawns- lower district tributes who haven't ever handled a weapon or struck another living person in their life. There are rooks and bishops, the ones that are in between- the people who can survive just using their own sense of preservation. There are knights- they can fight, but they don't do it because they want to. Then there are kings and queens- the Careers.

I take a seat across from Cimmara. She smiles excitedly, "My! You are a handsome young thing!"

I just sit there. What does she want me to say? Thanks? She doesn't mean it.

Her eyes dart over to a camera and then back to me, "How do you feel about being here today?"

I raise my brows, "Being here in the interviews? Or just in general?"

"Um, the interviews?" I can tell she's to afraid to ask what I think about the games.

"I don't like it, but I can't change anything. No use in crying over something that's irriversible."

Her forhead wrinkles, "I suppose. Do you have some type of goal that's driving you?"

My heartbeat falters at the mental image of my little brother, "My younger sibiling."

She smiles, "Oh? What's his name?"

"Elliot."

"You must miss him."

I blink, "Of course."

She shifts uncomfortably and clears her throat, "Anything you'd like us to know about yourself?"

I think for a moment, "I don't have secrets. Everything you see is everything I've got that's interesting about me."

She nods, "Okay."

The interview is a drag. I tell her what she wants to know, and keep all my answers short and to the point. I don't want to give anything away. I can't risk playing pretend for these people just to hook a few sponsors. Every word that comes out of my mouth reveals something about me- something that another tribute can use against me in the Games.

_**-Natalie D8-**_

I fiddle with the hem of my dress. It's short, and a blinding yellow. It accentuates my dark hair and clings to my curvy figue. Already I've recieved many cat calls and wolf whistles. Is it conceited of me to be proud about that? I don't think so. Man, if my girls could see some of the guys here! The male population is beyond dreamy!

Next to me, Zach watches D7 boy's interview with detatched interest. I can't help but notice how nice he looks in his suit. Even if he is a tad arrogant. Before the interviews began, he scooted as far away from me as possible, but not so far away that he was closer to the D9 girl than me. I roll my eyes at him. I mean, we don't have to be friends, but who says we're enemies? As far as he's concerned everyone is out to get him.

I press my lips together; no one here wants to be friends with me. No one wants to talk, or smile. I know it's the Games, but everyone (with only one exception) is going to die! Why waste what little time we have being so down and out? My heart breaks a bit at the thought of my band. God I miss them!

I miss the interviewer calling my name while I'm day dreaming. The only reason I ever get up is because Zach practically pushes me out of my chair. Glaring at him threateningly, I straighten up and turn on my heel towards Cimmara.

She grins as she watches me approach her and I throw a wave to the audience. They cheer ecstatically and jump to catch my kisses.

I laugh at the goofs and sit down sexily across from the interviewer. The blue haired ditz beams with joy, "My gosh you're beautiful! I mean you're gorgeous!" She turns to the audience, "What do you think guys?"

They leap to their feet and clap erratically, their shouts are so abundant that I can't make out one word of anything.

My cheeks heat from the attention and I turn away shyly, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it! So, a beautiful girl like you must have tons of boyfriends!"

I smile, "Well, I've been around."

She grins almost naughtily, "Good to hear! What are your hobbies?"

Finally! "Playing instruments! I love my guitar! It's my entire life!"

"Oh, you play? Does that mean you can sing too?"

I nod excitedly, "Absolutely! I'm the lead singer in my band back home."

Her eyes become vibrant, "You have a band?"

"Mm-hm."

The woman smacks her knee, "You have to play something for us! Perhaps, when you become victor, you can get your band together and play for us during your tour!"

I am taken aback. No one has said anything like that to me, not since I said goodbye to my friends. She seems so confident in saying it- like it's already happened.

I manage to stutter out a reply before my silence makes a fool of me, "Of- of course. That would be wonderful."

"What kind of music do you play?" She inquires with vigor.

Jumping slightly with excitement at getting to mention the Beatles, I reply a little to hastily, "I am a true fan of the Beatles. We've redone all of their songs! And no, we haven't modernized any of them with some trashy techno beat! We're hoping that if we save up enough money we can start to publicize ourselves."

"Well, when you win you wont have any trouble with that!"

My face goes blank as I process her statement. I never really thought about it that way. I've been so focused on the fact that I could die, I haven't thought about the rewards awaiting me if I win. Man, this could actually be kind of awesome! "I guess so."

She smiles and pinches my knee, "My money is on you babe!"

I flinch at the action, and she continues to ask her invasive questions. The rest of the interview is a daze; I'm too busy thinking about my band hitting it big time to really pay attention. I can't believe it! I'm going to be a star! Wait, wait, wait. First I have to win... but I can't murder anyone. Maybe I could kill if I was forced to, but not out of pure malice or anything. What if I could be one of the few victors that win without killing? That'd be nice. I think it would also provide me more publicity.

_**-Zach D8-**_

Natalie wraps up her interview quickly; I can't help but notice that she seems a bit distracted. Her answers come out a little mixed, and some just don't make any sense at all. Never the less, the crowd roars with approval as she waltzes off the stage.

Getting up, I straighten my jaket, and walk confidently towards Cimmara. When Nat passes me, she gives me a small wink and whispers 'Good luck'. Snorting, I roll my eyes. Stupid girl. Can't she understand that I don't like her? One would have thought pushing her out of her chair would be at least a small hint. There's no way to make that girl hate anything. It's like she completely forgets every offensive remark or action committed against her only a few moments after they happen.

When I finally reach my seat, Cimmara is grinning like a cheshire cat. I scowl at her in disgust. Don't even think about it lady- there's no way I'd ever tap that, and vice versa.

"Oh goodness we've got a handsome one here!"

I don't consider anything about my appearance inviting, so I just shrug off her comment.

"How are you feeling?"

I lean back into the chair and cross my legs, "Completely fine."

One of her brows arch, "Really? You're not even a little nervous? That's good! Perfect Hunger Games material!"

I don't reply.

She clears her throat awkwardly and continues, "Of course what else should we have expected? I remember you smiling like it was your birthday during the reapings! Were you happy about being reaped?"

Again, I shrug, "I suppose. I can't change what happened. Besides, what's to be sad about? I'm not dying, and when I come out of this deal I'm going to be rich."

She punches at me playfully, "That's the way! True confidence! Oh, but don't let it grow into cockiness!"

My forehead wrinkles, "Did I suggest that I would do such a thing?"

"Nope. It's just a spot of advice. Tell us a little bit about you. What's life like back home?"

Already I feel tired. My bones ache and my mind is working slowly. Why do we have to do these stupid interviews? Why can't we just get on with it? "Sorry to disappoint, but there's not much to tell. My mom died when I was little. All i've got left is my younger sister and my dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

My fingers tap rythmically on the arm of the chair, "Don't be. It's not your fault."

The interview doesn't last much longer. I have so little to say that we actually get done before my three minutes are up. I don't show boat or anything as I return to my seat among my fellow tributes.

_**-Pipple D9-**_

I look like a puffed up bird. My stylist put a corset on me hoping that it would bring in some of the fat. It just pushed everything upward, I end up holding my arms out and moving like a penguin. I hear my name called as I'm mourning over my predicament.

When I reach Cimmara she seems as uncomfortable as I am about this whole situation. I sit down stiffly and scratch my neck.

Her smile is uncertain, "Um, hello sweetie."

I look down at the floor, "Hello."

Her voice is contorted, "Are you okay?"

A solitary tear treks down my cheek; I consider telling the truth. Instead I say that I'm fine.

She hesitates, "You look really pretty."

This makes me choke on a sob, "Thank you." She's lying, but I appreciate her attempt to comfort me. I glance up at her, "You look pretty too."

She smiles sadly, "Thank you."

I move around in my chair, God this is humiliating. I want my mommy. I just want to go home. Why can't I go home? This is like a nightmare. My heart thunders as my emotions begin to take over.

"Uh, so tell us a bit about yourself. What's your family like?"

That question sends me over the edge. I start bawling uncontrolably and I'm escorted off the stage by a female peacekeeper. She takes me behind the curtains, away from the cameras and the accusing stares of the people. It's then that I begin to feel terrified. What have I done? What are they going to do to me?

The guard must notice my fear because she suddenly stops. Crouching down low, she pulls a piece of neatly folded fabric out of her jacket pocket and wipes my cheeks with it. Her face is lined gracefully with age, but she doesn't look old. I'm completely amazed be her kindness, and I can't help myself- I hug her. She stiffens at first, but eventually winds her arms around me.

She rocks me back and forth, the whole time repeatedly whispering, "I'm so sorry." I cry into her shoulder and pray desperately for freedom.

_**-Ryan D9-**_

Geez Pip. After they cart her off the stage, the room fills with complete silence. Getting up quickly, I jog over to Cimmara and sit down in the chair across from her, "Sorry about my partner, she's just emotional. She'll be fine."

The interviewer smiles defeatedly, "Of course. Thanks."

I nod, "No problem."

"So, you're Mr. Ryan Perry! I hear you're one of the smart ones."

I narrow my brows seriously, "I've got a rather high IQ."

"That's good to hear! Can you tell us anymore about yourself?"

I frown at the oppurtunity, I'm not interested in talking about my life- not to anyone, "Well, there's not much to tell. I've got a younger sibiling. Our family makes enough to get by. It's a very common story. Nothing special."

The corners of her mouth pull down, "Oh, ok. Well, do you have a romantic life of any kind?"

I almost lose my head I laugh so hard! "Of course not! Do I look like the type of guy that would be good with the ladies?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. I guess it depends on the lady. How about any of your peers? Is there anyone that's caught your eye yet?"

Clearly the romantic bit is her thing this year; she can't seem to focus on anything except relationships.

I inhale deeply, "No, there's no one. I couldn't care less about any of them."

_**-Laveda D10-**_

God, this is just almost too much to take in. My fingers twitch involuntarily as my mind races. Will I do okay? I glance at the audience and suck in a breath; there are so many people! I keep expecting them to disappear- I wish they would. At this rate I just want to get to the games, at least then I can hide from prying eyes. Right now I feel exsposed; it's disgusting.

Warily I look over at Iris; she's smiling brightly; one of her legs is jerking up and down. She senses my stare and turns to grin at me. My ally winks swiftly and I return the gesture. Kenya notices the connection between us and the corners of her mouth twitch comically. I imagine she thinks we're cute. I don't like her. Iris is the one who vouched for her- claiming that the older girl was a natural with the bow. Why do we need another bow? I turn my face away from her agitatedly. I despise the way she looks at me, and the way she speaks to us. I may only be thirteen, but that's still well beyond being a child.

Crossing my arms defiantly, I puff myself up and attempt to look confident. When the interviewer calls my name, a sharp pain of dread pumps through my veins.

With all the poise a teeny bopper can muster, I take a seat across from Cimmara.

The first thing that I'm struck by is her enormous chest. It's a wonder she doesn't fall over from the shear weight of those knockers. My face heats and I look away from her; I don't know why I'm ebarassed, I'm not the one that looks like a complete fool.

"How are you doing, babe?"

The muscles in my left eye constrict at her approach of address, but I soon recover and regain my composure. I smile sweetly at the blue haired wench, "Just fine. This is a bit much, I'll admit to that, but I'm not dead yet, so I suppose I'm quite alright."

The audience chuckles at my retort and my smile widens. Cimmara laughs lightly, "I imagine it must be very striking to one so young. Which, by the way, you handle yourself well for being a teenager. I couldn't believe your reaping, you were so strong!"

Vaugely, I recall the day she refers to. It pains me when I realize I can barely remember my families goodbyes. "Yes... well, it had to be done."

Her brow cocks, "I was wondering about that. Why did you choose to volunteer?"

My body tenses at that question. What right does she or any of these people have to ask? Wait, it's not about what rights they have, it's about the rights that I don't have. "My sister." I clear my throat and begin again, "My sister was repeaped. She couldn't hurt a fly, much less a real person. What it all comes down to is that it would have been worse of me to let her go rather than volunteer."

I don't have much of a way with words, and that's simply all I can think to say about the matter.

She smiles, "Well, that was very brave of you. I'm guessing we'll see the same gumption in the arena?"

I nod, "Smite me if you don't."

_**-Zack D10-**_

Laveda finishes her interveiw and leaves everyone thinking she's some kind of intelligent angel. Although the first description might be the truth, the latter is far from it.

I jog across the stage with confidence and wave at the audience. Quite a few girls stand up and cheer me on- I make a gesture next to my ear suggesting that they should call me. They're practically swooning.

When I reach my chair, I go right past it and straight to Cimmara. She has a hand hovering over her chest in surprise as I lean in and place both my hands on her face. Giving her a big smack on the lips earns me a screaming encore.

Smiling like a fox I turn on my heel and stride over to my seat. I make myself comfortable in it's cushions and extend my legs lazily.

Cimmara's still fanning herself as the audience's clapping begins to cease, "MY GOODNESS! I hate to say it, but you're a little young for me!"

Everyone laughs and I grin, "Age is just a number, Babe. Nothing can keep us apart."

Some girl yells, "We'll see about that!", and I laugh heartily.

The interviewer glares in the direction of the female, as if she's actually jealous, "You heard him! Nothing can tear us apart."

She leans forward and reaches for my hand. I decide to play along and I clutch her fingers desperately in my own, "We'll find a way to make it work!" I say urgently.

She bats her lashes, "Love always finds a way!"

The crowd erupts in laughter and applause. Releasing each other, we settle back into our seats and Cimmara really starts the interview. "Now that's what I call an entrance! It was a show before, but I think you gave the word entertainment a whole new meaning!"

I smile, "If only it were that easy!"

She nods and laughs, "I get ya! What a relief, are you always like this?"

I toss my blonde hair out of my eyes in annoyance. My stylist cut my hair so that it's hanging in my eyes, and frankly it pisses me off. Putting my heart throbbing smirk on, I tilt my head at Cimmara, "Pretty much. Takes a lot to bring me down."

She cocks a brow, "So you must plan on taking this a long way! Let me give you a scenario! Let's say you're in the woods, you come across one of these beautiful female tributes and she's got a sword to your thoat. When she asks, 'Give me a reason not to kill you', what do you say?"

Laughingly I reply, "I don't say anything, I do something." I get down on my knees and turn my face away from the camera's and Cimmara so I can concentrate on making 'the face'. When I get it right, I whip around and show everyone the smolder.

The large room fills with booming laughter and I give Cimmara's hand another quick kiss before I climb back in my seat.

She shakes her head in disbelief, "It works!"

_**-Kenya D11-**_

Zack's interview is almost over; my hands are shaking with anticipation. I feel like my breathing is erratic and too loud. Looking over at Nikolai I see that is completely bummed about the whole thing. His stylist obviously had no control over his style, Nikolai does what Nikolai wants. My district partner must feel me looking because he raises his narrowed gaze to meet mine. He says nothing, just glares back at me like a creep.

I roll my eyes and turn away from him. I still feel bad though, sick; theres a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach telling me that i'm a traitor for not offering him an alliance. My mouth slants downward at my thoughts, but I'm soon ripped away from the trance when Cimarra asks for me to come on stage.

Breathing in heavily, I stand up and turn one last time towards Nik. He folds his arms across his chest and arches a brow, "What?"

I cock my head to the side, "No 'good luck'?"

He snorts, but I still see that the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. It's good enough for me. Smiling, I walk across the stage. As I pass Zack, I can't help but notice why so many girls were fanning themselves over him. He's kind of Gorgeous. He catches me looking and I feel a blush creep into my cheeks when he winks at me.

When I sit down across from Cimmara I shake hands with her.

"You are too pretty! You're not even real!"

My stylist added more purple streaks to my hair on the underside. They're different shades of violet, and curled to a shining perfection. My dress is white and clings modestly to my legs, but harshly to my waist. There are silver beads decorating the neckline which catch the light and throw it back- they're almost like minature disco balls.

"Thank you," I can't help but sound a bit sheepish.

She smiles, "Such a beautiful girl must be able to do some beautiful things, yes?"

I smile at her hinting. She's obviously done her research, but who's the source? How do they know I can sing and dance? Surely that's what she's refering to. "Indeed. I can sing and dance."

She gawks, "Well, which do you prefer?"

My brow furrows timidly, "Uh, singing, I guess." My body makes me self conscious- at least I can hear my voice. I have know way of knowing if I'm doing well when I dance.

She slams her card down on a small coffee table, "You must sing for us!"

My spine straightens, "Right now? Here?"

She nods, "Of course!"

I fidget in my chair, "Well, okay. I have to stand, I do better when I stand."

"How ever you feel comfortable."

I get to my feet and twist my hands together nervously, "So, what would you like to hear?"

She thinks, "Something... Oh, I don't know! You pick."

I contemplate my options, I could sing something hip. Something with a serious beat, but it wouldn't sound good because I have no instrumental music to back me up. It'll have to be something soft, and flowing. Then it hits me.

"Okay, I've got it... I'm going to start singing now."

She nods and leans forward, awaiting my voice. I breath in deeply one last time-

_"She never slows down_

_She doesn't know why but she knows that when she's all alone, feels like it's all coming down_

_She won't turn around_

_The shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear, the tears will not stop raining down_

_So stand in the rain_

_Stand your ground _

_Stand up when it's all crashing down_

_You stand through the pain_

_You won't drown_

_And one day whats lost can be found_

_You stand in the rain_

_She won't make a sound_

_Alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down_

_She wants to be found_

_The only way out is through everything she's running from- wants to give up and lie down._

_So stand in the rain_

_Stand your ground _

_Stand up when it's all crashing down_

_You stand through the pain_

_You won't drown_

_And one day what's lost can be found_

_You stand in the rain_

_So stand in the rain_

_Stand your ground_

_Stand up when it's all crashing down_

_Stand through the pain_

_You won't drown_

_And one day what's lost can be found_

_You stand in the rain."_

_**-Nikolai D10-**_

It's a fitting tune. Something that we can all relate to- well, at least us tributes. When she's finished singing, her time is already up. No matter- she doesn't need to come up with her own words when she can wow a whole nation with one song. Cimmara congratulates her and they shake hands one last time before Kenya moves to return to her seat among us.

As we approach each other she flashes me a wide grin. I merely maintain my placid facial expression. She smiles way to often.

I reach Cimmara in no time and my gaze is automatically pulled to her monumentous chest. It almost makes me laugh, almost. When I'm finally settled in the chair, I cross my legs and do my best to look completely hostile.

We stare at each other for the longest time. Finally I break the ice, "Why are your tits so big?"

Her cheeks instantly go red. She brings her hand up and presses a finger to her ear. There's a small mic hidden in her hair. Someone is speaking to her on the other end.

Immediately she straightens and a laugh catches in her throat as she observes me, "Tell me, what is that you're wearing? On your head I mean?"

"A Ushanka."

Her brows go up, "Really? I've never seen anything like it before. It's something new. Did your stylist come up with the design?"

It's my turn to raise a brow or two, "It's not new. It's been around for quite a while."

She smiles like a ditz, "Oh, my mistake. I have been so busy getting ready for the interviews that I haven't had a chance to keep up with the fashion trends lately."

Oh. My. God. What a stupid bitch.

I shake my head tiredly; how can she live with herself? I find it difficult to believe that no one has shot her yet.

She continues hastily, "So, Nikolai- I love that name by the way- what do you think of the Capitol?"

I blink once, "It's nothing that I didn't expect."

The room seems to quiet down at this statement. I don't give a shit if I offended them, it's the truth. You see the whole damn place on television every year anyway, did they really think this was much of a surprise?

"Oh, haven't you enjoyed yourself?"

I laugh, "Multiple times."

Her eyes narrow at that comment, as if she's trying to figure out my answer. I laugh even more at the fact that she doesn't get it. "Nevermind. No, this isn't fun. They won't let me have fucking alchol because I'm not twenty one!"

She draws back, "Oh, uh, I'm sorry?"

I shrug, "It's not your fault."

She narrows her eyes at me again, "Mmhm. So, um, how do you feel about being here today? Are you excited to start the Games? You must be since you volunteered."

Jesus Christ woman give me a chance to answer the first question before you ask the second! "I want a drink, and no- i'm not excited to start the Games. I just want to get them over with."

The lady looks confused for a moment, "Get them over with? But you volunteered! If not for glory, then for what?"

"Just because. Everyone in District Eleven hates me, why stay there and rot with them?"

She sticks her lower lip out, "Why would they hate you?"

I roll my eyes, "Because they think I could have prevented the death of my friend."

"Could you have?" Her eyes widen at the chance to talk about something that she can make dramatic.

"No," I answer simply.

She blinks a few times before she settles back into her chair, "Oh. Well, what a dismal subject anyway, right? Let's talk about something else. What's with the accent? I've never heard anybody speak like you do."

"It's just the way I talk. Can't change it."

"Really? That's so unusual. No one influenced you? Like a parent?"

"Nope."

And the rest of the interview basically consists of her asking stupid questions and nearly flashing her boobs. I really don't see how they don't just pop right out of her top. I bet she has cannons in them.

When I return to my seat next to Kenya, I see that the girl is smiling, as if she thinks something's funny.

"What are you grinning about?"

She shakes her head and laughs, "Just you, Prince Charming."

_**-Iris D12-**_

I skip over to my chair across from Cimmara and plop myself down quickly. Crossing my legs I give the audience my best 'sweet' smile. This should be good.

The interviewer beams, "Oh my, you're such a pretty little thing! Look at you! You've got to be the cutest girl I've ever seen! Why, you're an angel!"

I've been compared to winged beings throughout my life because of my loose, curly blonde hair, ivory skin, delicate features, and small frame. I doubt the pixie like dress I'm wearing hinders her opinion of my appearance.

I smile innocently, "Thank you. You look nice too." I turn to the audience, "Everyone does. I've never seen so many pretty colors and beautiful dresses."

"How old are you?"

I turn back to Cimmara, "I'm twelve. Twelve from Twelve. That's how you can remember me."

She grins, "Very witty. Such a brave thing too. You don't seem even a bit nervous."

Oops. I forgot to play that part up. Bringing my shoulders up, I say, "It's to exciting to be scary or anything. I think this is kind of cool. I love the Capitol, I wish I could stay here forever."

Okay, so maybe I'm laying it on a little thick. Who can blame me though? How else am I going to get sponsors? Besides, I want the other tributes to see me as a non threat. I can't do that if I come up here acting all chill.

"Aw, that's nice of you to say." I can tell that she's recalling the boy that was before me, Nikolai, and his opinion of the Capitol.

"It's just the truth. Hey, you want to see something cool?"

She laughs and nods, "Of course."

"Okay, I'll show you."

I get up out of the chair that so many before me have sat in. I place myself between Cimmara and the audience and get my stance ready. I take a quick breath before I bend my whole body backwards and flip through the air.

I land on my feet upright and with perfect grace. The crowd claps in delight, and Cimmara copies their gesture. "That was awesome! Do it again!"

I smile sweetly and do two more backlips across the stage, landing in a split. I throw my hands up in the air and the crowd goes nuts.

My chest heaves slightly, but I don't feel tired at all. In fact I feel exactly the opposite, like I could do this all day. I finally realize this is where I should be. My whole life I remember wanting to volunteer. Careers were the ones that were trained, not lower district tributes. They were the ones expected to win. I wanted to become experienced with a weapon and prove to the world that anyone could do it. Even a girl like me. This is my chance, and i'm going to make the most of it.

I hop to my feet easily and dance back to my chair across from Cimmara. She's clapping and giggling excitedly, "What a large amount of power for such a little girl! I didn't know you had it in you! Do you dance? I imaine you'd make a wonderful dancer."

A blush crawls up my neck, "Well, I do a bit. Not as good as my sister though."

Cimmara's face softens, "Yes, she was the little girl who was reaped before you, right?"

I nod with true sadness, "Yep."

"You are very courageous for taking her place."

I smile, "Thank you. Let's hope the same courage gets me back home."

"Oh, I think you'll surprise yourself. Tell me a little bit about life back home. What do you miss the most?"

I answer without hesitation, "My sister. She's my other half, I hate being away from her. But also miss my mom and my dad. Everything seems so jumbled without their schedules. I'm used to specific routine."

"I know what you mean. Have you made any friends though? Someone to ease the pain of being alone?"

My mouth turns up slyly and I think of Forrest, Laveda, and Kenya- my allies, "You could say that."

She goes on to ask more unnerving questions and continues to make me feel like a science experiment. When my time is up I walk back to my original seat and cross paths with Daryl along the way. I give him a quick hug and burry my face in his chest. The audience ooh's and aww's over it. He bends down and whispers into my hair, "Brown nosing show off!"

I giggle and punch him playfully in the shoulder, "Just do your thing Mr. Man."

_**-Daryl-**_

I do exactly what Iris tells me to do- my thing. I meet each of Cimmara's questions with a straight and honest answer, throwing in a side of humor every once in a while.

"Do you have any sibilings?"

I nod, "My sister, her name is Missy. She's young and I love her to death. I'd give my life for her."

Cimmara smiles, "What about your parents?"

My work against each other, "Well, my dad died when I was 13; I miss him more than you can imagine. After his death, my mom just- lost it. Or rather, the world lost her. She loved him so much, I think it was like breathing. Once you take oxygen away, it's hard to live."

Her faces drops, "That's so sad. I couldn't imagine loosing one of my parents or a spouse. It sounds awful."

My lips press together, "It was, and it still is, but we get by just fine. I'm kind of worried about Missy though, I don't want her to stress out over me being gone."

Cimmara batters and bruises me with her inquiries. Then the buzzer sounds and I know that my three minutes are up. I plant a small kiss on her hand and make my way back to my fellow tributes. As I'm passing a camera crew, I think of what that sickly boy did. How he addressed his brother. An idea sprouts in my head and I walk over to one.

Kneeling down I look right into the lense, knowing that my family and friends are observing.

"Missy, bad things are going to happen. I'm going to do bad things, and other people are going to do bad things to me. Don't watch any of it. Not a single moment. Do you understand me? Patrick, don't let her watch. Lock her in a room if you have to, but for goodness sake don't let her see one minute... not one second of the Games."

**Author's Note: Whew! I just wrote the POVs of six different tributes in about two hours! I hope you liked it! Sorry for any spelling errors and stuff like that, I know it's annoying, but try to ignore them. Next chapter- the Games start! YAAAAAAAAAAAY! I know how long we've all been waiting for it! The POVs WILL BE RANDOM! I will also do a recount on points! I will make a list of items available to buy after the next chapter. OMG I'M SO FRIGGIN EXCITED! XD**


	27. The Cornucopia

_**OMFUCKIN'G, I totally watched the HUNGER GAMES MOVIE (get ready for girly scream) ! I waited in line for an hour! It was so worth it! $155 million opening weekend and $59 million over seas- that's pretty good if you ask me! We actually ran to our theater and it was cray-zay! I don't think it beat twilight (sad day, I really wanted it to), but who the HELL CARES? I F'ING LOVED IT! I THINK I'M GOING TO WATCH IT AGAIN!1,000,000,000,000,000,000X better than twilight! WOOT WOOT WOOTIN SCOOTIN! **_

**Author's Note: Just a little information on how I'm going to do the POVs. Each chapter contains half the tributes at random pick- the next chapter will contain the other half. The more reviews you have submitted, the longer your tribute's POV is. If you see a particularly long POV it is NOT because I'm favoring the maker of that tribute! It's probably going to be a fight scene or something like that. I hope you guys like this chapter (Ahem, YOU HAVE TO LIKE IT)!**

**LET THE GAMES BEGIN!**

_POVs in this chapter:_

_Hazel D4 Starr D2_

_Maia D6 Zane D2_

_Antherton D1 Daryl D12_

_Claire D3 Ray D4_

_Laveda D10 Tim *BB* D5 _

_Phoebe D7 Pip *BB* D9_

_**-Hazel D4-**_

Heart pounding, drenched in sweat, I board the hovercraft along with a group of people I pay little attention to. The inside of the craft isn't lavish like the usual Capitol accomodations and after a quick scan of the perimiter I take note of Ray's absence. Perhaps we are supposed to travel seperately. The flight lasts about thirty minutes; little is said between anyone during that time. It occurs to me that this is the first time I've ever flown; too bad it wasn't under better circumstances- it might have been fun.

When we reach the catacombs a tracking device is injected into my arm by a man clad in white. I glance at the doctor curiously, "Why do I need it? It's not like I'm going anywhere."

He shrugs, "Nobody tells me anything. I just follow orders."

I feel like my stomach is trying to squeeze into my throat.

Afterwards I'm led by a pair of Peacekeepers to a dark room with walls made out of plates of steel. The smell of disinfectants burns my nose. It's suffocating in here; a feeling of adandonment and emptiness overwhelms me.

My stylist shows up not too long after my arrival with a plastic bag draped over her left arm. A wide grin spreads across my face and I fly into her open arms and bury my face into her lilac scented hair. She hugs me back so tightly it hurts, but the pain is not that of a bad sort.

Once she shoos the gaurds away she turns back to me, her face grim, and says- "Stripping time."

I undress to my undergarments and watch as she pulls the arena outfit from its wrappings.

Legs shaking, breathing uneven, I step into a grey and black camo suit. I take in the faint smell of the virging material. Clothes always smell best the first time they're worn. Neither of us speak as she does up the buttons and zippers. The thick fabric clings to my body, but not too tightly. Okay, so we're obviously not going anywhere very hot and the colors indicate we're not hitting a desert. Mountains maybe? But no- the shoes don't suggest rocky terrain. They're too light. A cross between a boot and a sneaker. More like running footware.

She presses her hands gently against my back and urges me sits me down on a stool where she proceeds to twist and tug on my hair. Rosana talks the whole time about nothing in particular. I try to listen, but the effort is futile- my mind is running in a thousand different directions. I think I might lose my breakfast. God, God, God. What will it be like out there? What if I die? What if I have to kill someone? My heart stutters when I imagine the Bloodbath; I just need to grab something close and hightail it out of there. No looking back.

I feel my stool spin around so I'm facing Rosana. She smiles and takes my face in her hands, "Return to us."

I nod shakily, "I will." Looking into her wide shining eyes, I see my own frightening reflection. I study my wrists absently and notice how small they are; tiny even. In the past few days my stomach has shrunk to the size of a raisin. I have no energy. I'm small compared to everyone else. I hardly have any experience with weapons. I will surely die in the Bloodbath.

The putrid taste of bile rises in my throat and I feel my body contract wildly against the reflex to vomit. Stumbling blindly I move to the corner of the room and puke.

Rosana soothes me with incomprehensible words and pats my back as acid scorches my insides and floods my mouth.

Wiping a sleeve across my lips I walk away from the mess and sit down with my back to a wall. Rosana crouches wordlessly infront of me. Smiling sadly, I lean forward and wind my arms around her delicate frame. She hugs my neck tightly, "You're my favorite so far." Rosana strokes my hair in a motherly way, "I know you probably think I say that to everyone, but I don't." A sob racks her body.

"Hey," I half whisper into her hair, "I'm supposed to be the one that cries," A tear escapes my eye as I speak, "Don't worry, I promise to come back."

I feel her nod, pulling away she wipes tears from her cheeks, "Alright... are you ready?"

Rising up off the floor, I look down on her with a small smile, "As I'll ever be."

We both jump when the room starts to shake and a groaning sound batters our ears; a giant glass tube rises up out of the ground. It's big enough for a person to stand in. I swallow hard, "Is that it?"

Rosana moves her head up and down deftly, "Yes. The doorway to Hell."

I laugh, "That's kind of funny, actually."

My fingers begin to shake again and my palms sweat. We both walk towards the cylinder. I run my hand down it's smooth surface. The glass is so cold, like this room; yet, sweat pours down my brow and back.

Rosana's voice is ragged, "Time's up."

She grips my hand almost painfully as I step into the tube; she doesn't let go until the door threatens to shut on her wrist. I splay my fingers against the glass and fight the urge to scream. The pressure to cry is building inside me. Rosana presses her hands against my own, the glass being the only thing seperating us. I can feel their warmth through the crystal. Not enough time! This is too fast!

"Come back, Hazel!"

I yelp when the cylinder starts to rise; I get down on my knees and reach toward my stylist. My voice is high pitched- almost a scream- "I will!" Tears spring to my eyes and blur my vision.

She's gone.

It's dark for only a moment as I'm rising up through the ground. Soon the glass disappears and all that's left is the platform.

The sun is blinding. I have to raise my hand up to block out the light. Squinting my eyes, I climb to my feet and look around to see that we're all here. 24 tributes; 23 of us might as well already be dead. I don't even have time to think as I take in our surroundings.

We are in a city. A dead city. A half skeleton of something long gone. This is the arena.

"10, 9, 8,"

What? They're already starting the countdown? A sob escapes me and I moan in distress, "_Oh God_."

I ready myself to run. The Cornucopia is about a 300 feet away. Items are scattered around it.

"7, 6, 5,"

I glance over at Ray; he's not looking at me. My district partner is staring deterimndly at that big golden horn filled with weapons and supplies. He's not actually going into that is he?

"4, 3,"

There's a sudden explosion off to my left. The sound booms in my ear canals, it's deafening and I nearly jump out of my skin. It takes every ounce of control I have not to leap off my own platform! I cringe in pain and clutch at my throbbing ears. The boy from District five stepped off of his plate too early. What? Why?

"2, 1"

No more time to think. A cannon sounds, and it begins.

_**-Starr D2-**_

Everything goes to Hell.

With the booming of the cannon still echoing in my ears, and new sounds of chaos filling them, I lurch forward and step off my plate onto the moss covered ground. My heart thunders inside my chest as I run for the Cornucopia. Arms pumping at my sides, adrenaline surging, I take the lead. I have little time to soak in the arena. Tall skeletal structures of old skyscrapers loom overhead. Hundreds of abandoned cars and caving buildings blur past me as I surge onward.

My ears twitch at the sound of an approaching tribute. Whoever they are, they're gaining on me quickly. Without looking back, I force my legs to move faster and leap forward once again. Lorraine is supposed cover me, so I don't pay much attention to the person trailing my progress.

I'm about two hundred feet from the Cornucopia now; the items scattered around it are becoming more valuble. Lorraine had better take care of the shadower.

The yelling around me becomes louder with each passing second. One scream in particular almost makes me stop in my tracks; a sound of death. It peirces my ears and makes my heart contract with slight fear. However, I ignore the desire to slow and keep moving towards the horn.

That's when it happens, the tribute who's been trailing me kicks it up a notch and soon we're running alongside each other and I look over to see who it is- it's a fucking kid! That little blonde twerp from twelve! Damn, she's fast. How come I never noticed in training?

Her mouth pulls up in a smirk and her arms pump harder at her sides as she pulls ahead of me.

I scream in frustration, "No!"

Where the Hell is Lorraine? I watch as the little girl gains speed and leaves me in the dust.

My lungs feel like they're the size of peas; my muscles screech with every inch of ground I cover.

"What the fuck?", Someone shouts. I turn my head towards the voice and see Monique running beside me; the bitch looks pissed. "Don't let her get away!" Spit flies as she yells this at me.

Heated blood pools into my face, I attempt to increase my speed. My limbs ache from the effort, but it pushes me a little bit farther forward. D12 girl is now at the edge of the Cornucopia, all of a sudden she lowers herself to the ground and skids to a halt on her knees. She twists around at the waist to face me, and that's when I see her notch an arrow.

"She's got a bow," I yell, "Get down!"

I crash to the ground and hear an arrow zip past my ear. Monique's temper flares dangerously, "You little BITCH!"

I get back up. The girl notches another arrow, and I pitch sideways at the last second, barely avoiding death. This makes me plow into Monique and we roll across the dirt in a tangled frenzy.

A fist connects with my cheek as my ally throws wild punches, "Get off! I'm going to kill that little brat!"

Scuttling away like a crab, I watch as she stands and readys herself to go on the offensive, "Wait!" I scramble toward Monique and grab her by the collar of her suit to hold her back. I see that D12 girl is now looking at another younger tribute, but not trying to take her down. Allies. "There's another one! Looks like they're together, we can use her as a distraction!"

Moniques eyes narrow in on the approaching girl from District Ten, "I've got her."

She sprints towards the younger tribute and barrels into her, knocking the girl off course. Averting my eyes I see that our ploy has done the trick. D12 girl is now adjusting her aim towards the fighting pair, no doubt looking for an open shot at Monique.

I fly at bow girl and she doesn't notice me coming until I'm practically on top of her. Wrenching the arrow from her hands I ball up my fist and put all my weight into a punch to the gut. She cries out in pain and ducks to the right to avoid a kick to the face, but I still manage to clip the edge of her jaw.

Then something weird happens.

All of a sudden I'm airborne, literally flying this time. I hit hard on the mouth of the golden horn- the breath gets knocked out of me and all I can see is bright spots of light in a dark background. Something, or someone, takes hold of the collar of my suit and flings me backward; a fist comes at me, meeting my nose before I can do anything to lessen the blow. Blood drains into my mouth and the pain is staggering. Once more my opponent grabs the collar of my shirt, I feel the strength of them through their force- that's when I throw sanity, and all my non-girly ways of fighting out the window.

I kick, bite, punch, scratch- anything that a wild, feral animal would do, and I don't stop until I feel my fingernails fill with skin and blood.

My attacker backs off with every swipe I take and I finally get a good look at who I'm fighting when pin her down beneath me. D11 girl. Her bloodied face twists in pain as I repeatedly punch her in the kidney area.

She sneers up at me when I wrap my hands around her throat and kicks me in the stomach hard, launching me head over heels into the air. I land on my back and spring to my feet, only to come face to face with a knife. Jumping away I barely miss her attempt to cut my nose in half. Speaking of which, is still bleeding profusely.

Silver sparkles in the sunlight as she tosses the weapon in the air and catches it by the blade, preparing to throw. At that moment I spot the mass of brown curls I've been expecting since this whole thing started. D11 girl doesn't even see Lorraine coming as she tackles her to the ground. A smile spreads across my face, I can finally focus on the Cornucopia! I leave the scuffling pair to fight by themselves, and jump into the mouth of the horn.

Knives! It's filled with knives!

Quickly, I load myself down with food and throw a green canvas bag over my shoulder. I put on a vest full of blades and strap some to my thighs. Grinning like a cat and armed to the brim, I step out of the horn (and I like to think I do it in style).

Lorraine is fleeing. I only have seconds to figure out why- the huge guy from D7 and the little girl that Moniuqe was supposed to take care of are all armed and ready to fight. The little girl from D12 is back also, she's bloodied, but still standing. DAMN IT! What happened?

I see that the boy and the D10 girl are kneeling over D11 girl. No doubt Lorraine had done some serious damage, but where was she? All this thinking eventually gets me in trouble, just as I'm about to turn and leave D12 girl spots me and moves to notch an arrow. I yank one of my knives free from my vest and throw it a split second before she reasles the projectile.

The impact of the arrow striking my shoulder throws me back. I curse as an intense pain blooms in the upper part of my body. "Shit!" I grip the shaft of the arrow and rip it out before I have a chance to contemplate the discomfort of the action. This is so not like a movie! I cry out and hit my knees; tears swell in my eyes and blur my vision, pouring relentlessly down my cheeks. I chuck the arrow frustratedly, grit my teeth and clutch my injury as I try to gain control of my ragged breathing. Eventually I gather enough strength to fumble to my feet.

I look back towards the Cornucopia to see that D12 girl is down as well. An eye for an eye, my knife protrudes from her left shoulder.

Her allies rush to help her. I use their distraction to make a pain filled escape. _They have taken the Cornucopia._

_**-Maia D6-**_

I'm running in an alley; buildings stand hundreds of feet above me. I don't know how long it's been, and I don't know where I'm going, but I'm alive and that's all that matters at this point. As the cries of battle lose their clarity, I slow to a light jog and then finally a walk.

I have nothing. No pack, no water or food, no provisions of any kind. Taking in my surroundings, I see that there are dumpsters all over the place. Maybe I could find something in one of them? Glancing back the way I came, I make sure no one is following me. There are no signs of other tributes anywhere to be found.

A dumpster lid creaks as I lift it, the sound making me cringe. Slowly, I lift it a little higher, only to propell backwards at the stench that bombards me. I pinch my nose closed and hold my breath. Good lord, how long has that trash been in there? Oh well, what was I expecting to find? Something useful?

I lope farther down the alley, away from the awful smell, and come to a dead end. There's a rusty staircase crawling up the side of a crumbling apartment building. I might as well see what's in it. Maybe I can find some knives in an old kitchen. Really, I think I just need something to do other than run and worry.

The cimb is a tedious one. I flinch at every sound I make and I keep debating whether I should quit and find another, quieter way inside. Instead, I decide to kick in a random window with my boot. The glass gives way easily, as if it was paper. Silently, I creep through the window into the room. The carpeting is an ugly orange color, maybe brown- I can't really tell. It doesn't exactly stink in here, but the smell somehow makes me queasy. There's not furniture at all. Just a small kitchenette and a hallway that leads to what I'm guessing are a bedroom and a bathroom.

Hope dies in my chest as pieces of broken glass crunch beneath my feet. Tilting my head in thought, I bend down to examine the shards. Picking up a long, jagged piece I run my finger across its edge; blood sprouts from my thumb as the crystal bites into the skin. I'm not looking forward to using this as a weapon, but if that's what it comes to then so be it. I turn back around and rip a section out of the curtain framing the window. Carefully, I wrap the dusty cloth around the shard and put it into one of the pockets of my camo suit.

I search the rest of the apartment and come up empty handed. Did the Capitol go through the entire building and discard everything? There are no knives, no water, no non-perishable foods. What's with this place? It's like someone came through here and picked through the entire room... if this place is barren, then what's the rest of the city like? How are we supposed to get food? Crossing my fingers, I undo the locks on the door and move on to the next room. I get the same thing- which is nothing.

Now, how much sense does that make?

_**-Zane D2-**_

I sqeeze my eyes shut and attempt to control my labored breathing. Hidden in an old rusty Chevrolet, I tighten my grip on my pack. I haven't even looked in it yet for fear of someone hearing me go through the items. The stuff should be nice though, I was almost to the horn when I gave up going all the way and grabbed the bag. Biting the insides of my cheeks, I cautiously undo the snaps and peek inside. Spreading the mouth of the backpack open, I start to pull things out one by one.

A hunting knife. Huh, don't know what good that will do me since we're in a city. Two more knives, but these are odd looking. They've got these weird grippers on the sides, like they connect to something. Shrugging, I move on to the next item. One pack of jerky; I count twenty strips. Yes! How long can I make these last? I do the math and figure if I eat two strips three times a day then that's three and a quarter days of food. Not bad I guess. If there happens to be a day where I'm not very active I guess I can limit my serving to one. The next thing I pull out is a full water bottle. Unscrewing the lid, I tilt my head back and take a swig. I start coughing as soon as the liquid hits my throat. What is that? It's not water- it stings. Once my coughing fit settles, I sniff the liquid. It smells like medicine. Why would anyone put medicine in such a big bottle?

Pressing the lid back down I set it aside and yank out a coil of rope and wire. Guess everything is good for something.

There's also a thin blanket and it's got some shiny material on the inside of it. Perhaps some high tech heating and cooling system?

I shove everything back into the pack. I'll have to find a different container for water- that bottle just won't do.

Heaving a sigh, I tilt my head back against the cool metal of the car door and close my eyes. I'm alive. I am alive and I've got some supplies.

Suddenly, I flashback to the Cornucopia. The boy stepping off of his plate before the cannon shot. The girl that basically had her head twisted off by the muscled guy from District One. I shudder at the memory. How long will that image be stuck in my head? For months, or even years? God, I hope not. Conveniently, her scream echoes in my ears. I've never heard anything make that sound before. All I could do was keep running. My fingers tighten on my pack, and I look at it regretfully. Was it worth it? I know she was the enemy- everyone is- but I didn't stop to help her because I couldn't risk _not_ getting something.

I feel a deep pain flourish in my stomach. I should have helped her. I shoud've killed that bastard. He enjoyed it, I could tell. The smile on his face will haunt me for the rest of my life. What kind of monster was he? How many more tributes would he kill?

Not many if I had anything to do with it.

And that fight over the Cornucopia... I'd never seen anyone go at it like those career girls and those... what ever they were- lower district tributes. I didn't get to see much of the battle, but what I caught a glimpse of was simply insane!

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I switch positions into a crouch. I peek up through the busted out driver's door; coast is clear... or is it? How can I be sure that there's not someone up in one of those skyscrapers armed with a bow? They could just be waiting for me to come out. Quickly I give myself a mental slap. I can't afford to think like this; I can't let paranoia consume me. I won't be able to eat, sleep, or protect myself.

Strapping my pack to me securely, I place the knives in the pockets on my legs for easy access. Silently, I slip out of the truck and hover around the back of it for temporary cover. I need to decide where I'm going. Into the buildings, or to the outskirts? I've got to think like a career if I'm going to survive this. Where would a career hunt? If I were one, I'd think people were hiding out in buildings, ones that might have something useful in them. That would be the first place I'd look, so I decide to rule out hiding in any buildings.

There are so many places to camp out here that it's unreal! After some serious consideration, I choose the outskirts. Who knows what's outside the city? The buildings are packed in so tightly that I can't even see around corners. The scrapers are so tall and abundant that I won't be able to see the sun rise or set.

That still doesn't solve my problem though. Where do I even begin? And what if I hit a dead end? Do I climb over the top of the building? I snort; unlikely.

And what about allies? What should I do if I come across a kid, or a girl? I can't see myself killing a girl... maybe some minor damage? Hopefully I can leave dirty work like that to other tributes, unless it's D1 boy- I won't let him do something like that in front of me ever again. That poor girl...

Again, I shake my head. I'll cross those bridges when I come to them. For now, I just want to see what's on the other side of these scrapers.

I start my journey in what I assume is an eastern direction. The sun beats down on me as I jog through trashy city streets while mostly clinging to the backs of buildings and treking down alleys. My breathing becomes more labored with each step I take and about an hour later I have to sit down and take a drink of my nasty water. After that short breather I start running again and something strange happens to me- I don't feel tired, not even a little bit. It's like I hadn't run at all that first hour. What's up with that?

To test out the multiple theories I've come up with, I run as fast as my legs can carry me for as long as they will allow. When I get tired I take a drink of my "Nasty Water"; about four minutes later my heart beat has slowed and my muscles have relaxed. Then, I 'm up and running full-flegded again.

It's the drink. Something in it is replacing all my lost energy. Turns out I won't be replacing my water any time soon.

-_**Antherton D1-**_

Haha! I killed that little brat. God, it was just too easy! I mean I came right at her and she just stood there like a statue! I'm actually kind of disappointed she didn't put up a fight. Come on, what kind of person just stands there and takes it like that?

Yet, live for the sound of pain. And I'm still feeding off her scream. My eyelids and fingers twitch at the memory.

But the cornucopia... those little sluts were crawling over the Cornucopia like ants in a bag of sugar. I got close enough to get a vest and a small axe. Needless to say, the vest doesn't fit. I would have just gone barreling in there and taken them all myself, but what fun would that be? Those ho's were going to regret the day they didn't recruit me. I'm going to kill every one of them very slowly _and I'm going to enjoy it._

I'm also going to get those tiny brats from district 10 and 12. They are going to fucking rue the day they were born. Who did that chit with the bow think she was? Who was she to point that arrow at my chest? I guess I could always ask her when I killed her. Not that it would be easy, since they took the Cornucopia. Of course I stayed and watched! If the careers had taken it I might have had a chance to arrange an alliance. No way in Hell was I going to ask those low-lifes to give me a place among them.

Ah, who cares about that shit anyway? I've already started my own hunting. I'm on someone's trail right now. It's a girl, but I don't know which one. Judging by her tracks I'm not too far behind her. In fact, I should come up on her within the next couple hours. _I can't wait_.

I want to run but the tracks are so scarce I have to move slowly just to keep in the right direction. She could take a sudden turn and POOF, be gone like that. And talk about some hiding places. Most of this city is rubble, but about 25 percent of it is still standing. What's left are half skyscrapers and rusty steel structures. The buildings that are intact are mostly old market places and smaller businesses or complexes. It looks like a ghost city; bleached out architecture, swinging signs, trash blowing around. Why couldn't we have been dumped off in a forest or any place with a lot of dirt? It would have been so much easier to hunt.

Perhaps the Gamemakers wanted us to drag this thing out. That's beside the point though, I don't care how long it takes. In fact, I guess I'm kind of glad about the situation. The longer this Game lasts, the more time I'll have to kill.

_**-Daryl D12-**_

I plow down a deserted street, away from the Cornucopia. My legs burn and the familiarity of dehydration worms its way into my body, but I can't stop running. I can still hear people. Screaming and yellings batters at me and no matter how far I go I can't seem to escape.

It's when I decide to cut a tight turn around a pile of bricks and trash that I slam into someone. The impact makes my body do a half spin and I come face to face with a blonde haired boy that looks about my age.

He kind of growls at me, raises a small knife, and prepares to lunge.

I put my hands up, "Wait! Please! I don't have anything!" His eyes flicker with some type of emotion and I continue to plead for my life, "_Please._ I haven't even had a chance yet. I'm just trying to get away! Please don't-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" His lip curls and he looks around quickly, then back at me, "'What's your name?"

My heart beat slows some, "Daryl, it's Daryl." I begin to lower my hands and he hops forward an inch,

"Hands where I can see them!"

Instantly, I resume my past position, "Okay, okay!"

His breathing is heavy and he blinks a lot, as if he's trying to make a decision. I don't have to guess to know what the dude is thinking about. "Look," I say quietly, "I don't have a weapon-"

He snorts at me and waves his free hand, "Take a sneak peek genius! This place is full of more weapons than the Cornucopia!"

My brows knit, "Oh, well, yeah. I guess it is." I take a closer look at his 'knife' and see that's it's just a scrap of metal, jagged on one edge. It might not even be all that solid.

Blondie must notice a strange look on my face, because he lurches forward again, "This is pure steel! So don't even think about trying to pull a move."

My shoulders hunch reflexively at his shouting, "Okay!" I say urgently, "I won't do anything!"

Nodding, the boy shuffles a little on his feet,

"So... what are you going to do?" I ask cautiously.

His brows narrow and he clenches his jaw, "I don't know. If I let you go, you could end up killing me later on."

I shake my head furiously, "No! I-"

He shakes the 'knife' at me and yells, "QUIET!" I inhale sharply as he continues, "But- If I do let you live... tell me, what then?"

"We could form an alliance," I spit hastily; his face scrunches up like he's just tasted something sour. I continue doubtfully, "I'd be a good ally! I can hunt, and I can track, and run, and climb, and fight-"

"Wait, wait, wait- you can track?"

I get the feeling this guy is used to interrupting people, "Yes."

Once more, he scans the perimeter like someone might be watching us. He looks back at me and snarls, "You'd better be telling the truth."

I try to smile, but I think it comes out kind of like a grimace, "I am." Some part of my brain takes over- that feeling in every guy that just simply won't allow not putting up a bit of a fight, "What about you, can you do anything worth while?"

He smirks, "I've got you right under my thumb, don't I? And all I have is a peice of cardboard wrapped in tinfoil."

My eyes widen in surprise and I stare at him in disbelief. This whole time I've been begging a guy that I could easily take on in a fair fight to keep from killing me with cardboard?

He nods like he knows what I'm thinking and starts to chuckle. I laugh along with him and put my hands on my knees, leaning over in exsasperation.

We laugh for a bit longer and he sticks out his hand, "My name is Zack Thrasher."

I shake with him gratefully, "Nice to meet you."

_**-Claire D3-**_

I jerk my head up and listen. Nothing. Strange, I can't shake the feeling that someone is following me...

Returning my attention back to my map, I begin to work out a plan. I had nearly died getting this, thank God for careers! A memory flashes in the back of my mind- of me, running all the way around the fighting to the back of the cornucopia, waiting for the knife girl to collect her weapons, hopping into the horn and gathering what I needed- then escaping before I could be noticed. Or at least, that's what I thought.

_Snap! _I whip around and carefully scan the area. Shit! It's getting _very_ dark, and fast. The sky is an inked purple color; pretty soon I won't be able to see four feet in front of me. I jump when a cannon booms. I count only three dead.

Silently, I curse everyone. The more people there are left, the more difficult it's going to be to survive. And I know why so many got away- so many tributes that _should _have been bloodbaths. I know why so many people like me- untrained people, but fit- got good packs and maybe even weapons. It was the battle. Those two groups were so busy fighting for possession of the Cornucopia that the kids that _should_ have died _lived_. The Careers weren't focused on their main goal, which was grab a weapon and start killing.

Territorial disputes equals barely any bloodbaths. The only up side is that those careers will be out for revenge. They'll be so focused on killing the outlying district tributes that they'll make more mistakes than usual.

I fold up my map and turn off my penlight. Putting both in my pack, I turn away from the direction of the snapping sound I heard earlier and continue my journey at a crisp jog. I'm going north, as far as my map tells me, towards water. I have to have some water; dehydration will kill me as fast as any career.

As I'm moving I take in my surroundings: crumbling markets, half eaten skyscrapers, rusty cars. It's unlike anything I've ever seen- original in a way that differs from the Capitol. It's not scary, not threatening. Just old. It makes me angry that people could be so wasteful. How could the Capitol keep a place like this from people? A place with so much housing, and such oppurtunity should never be neglected like this. At one point I pass a sign that says, "This is how we do it in LA!" There's a picture of a baseball player getting ready to pitch next to the statement.

I decide to take a breather and stare up at the sign in curiosity; many questions run through my mind. Who was he? Did he pitch a perfect game? Did he have to kill anyone in order to win? Suddenly, my thoughts are interuppted by a peculiar crunching sound.

I reach for my utility belt and pull two knives out in either hand. Taking two careful steps backwards, I angle my body so that I can see better. Someone is definetely following me; there's no use trying to convince myself otherwise.

"Who's there?" My voice is low, but I'm surprised by the amount of confidence I'm able to put into it. I wait for an answer, but no one speaks.

The way I see it, if it was a group tracking me- they'd be chasing me down right now. So I know it's an individual after me. I raise my knives, "I know you're there, and I know you're alone!"

Adrenaline surges through me and my heart rate skyrockets due to the pressure of the situation, "Well?" Rage ices over my veins; I hate being toyed with, it makes me feel weak. I thrust my hands out, "COME ON COWARD!"

That seems to do it- in a flash a dark figure is barreling towards me and swinging something in wild sweeping motions. It's D1 boy. Antherton. Hard to forget.

I grit my teeth and swallow any fear that threatens to surface. Bracing myself, I lower my weapons and wait almost patiently until he's nearly two feet from me. Howling like an animal, he swings what looks like and axe at my head. I duck quickly, spinning on my heel I kick out and sweep his feet from under him. It's not that hard considering he's paying no attention to the finer points of warfare.

He smashes face first into the concrete and I take this as an oppurtunity to jump on his back and apply a wound.

As I wind my arm around the front part of his neck, I ready my blade so that when I pull back it will puncture his jugular. The muscled mass of boy reaches up and grabs my hair. He yanks me right over his head so that I land on my back just opposite of him. I gasp and try to regain my breath and he staggers to his feet pulling me up by my braid with him. I twist around to face him, he's grinning which really pisses me off. God, that hurts!

My head spins and I tighten my grip on my knife. Wait, my _knife_? What happened to the other one? No time! He raises his axe and I take this chance to reach up and stab him in the hand. He screams as the blade runs through his palm and protrudes from the other side. Unable to pull it out, he releases his hold on me, and I'm forced to move away unarmed. Panting I search the ground frantically for my other knife.

I spot it laying about ten feet from me. I lunge for the dagger, but Antherton is closer to it, he figures out what I'm going for it and kicks the weapon farther away from me.

A yelp of anger escapes me and I glare at the Neandrathal with contempt. He laughs and spits blood at me. I crouch a little lower and back away from him, he advances and raises his hand- the one with the knife in it. He pulls it out slowly, and smiles the whole time.

I narrow my eyes at him in challenge, "You don't scare me."

When he hears this, he snarls with anger, or hatred (I'm guessing it's both), but his expression is automatically replaced by another one of his creepy signature grins, "Oh, you're going to wish you hadn't said that."

He takes a step forward. He wants me to run. I can hear it in his voice, I can see it in his stance. However, my pride won't let me move an inch. I'm not some weak animal that can be chased down. No. Even though it might be stupid, I will stand my ground. Really, I don't have a choice. My brain is telling me to do one thing and my gut is _forcing_ me to do another.

Sure enough, he smiles again, revealing abnormally golden teeth, and confirms my suspicions,

"Tell you what, I'll let you have a ten second head start. How does that sound?"

My eyes narrow into slits; I don't say anything to him.

He glares at me, "So it's going to be like that? WELL FINE!" He runs at me full speed, this time aware of my tricks. Or at least some of them. What Antherton doesn't expect is me to run _at_ him- so that's what I do.

He swings his axe at me in a giant arching motion and I duck. There's a second worth of time for me to deliver a crushing kick between his legs. I smirk and think, _try pulling __**that **__back out_. He curses wildly and bends forward in pain. I take this chance to kick him in the head, but before my foot actually connects with his face he grabs my boot with both hands and twists my foot the opposite way it's angled. This time I scream; fire burns through my right leg. He twists some more and I'm positive my ankle is broken. He lifts me into the air and half spins me; I'm slammed into hard, unforgiving concrete- again.

This time my head hits the sidewalk too, and I literally see nothing. It's black; I can't move, I can't do anything. I await my death.

_**-Ray D4-**_

I grip my weapon furiously, and stop about thirty feet away from him. He's walking over towards his axe, his back to me.

I try to get a good look at the girl, to see if she's alive, but I can't tell. From what I see, she's as close as a person can get to death. I wait for her to move, but she doesn't. Anger swells inside me. I saw what he did to that girl at the Cornucopia, and he'd done it again to this one. No more.

I turn my body to the side; if he can throw that axe I don't want to give him a larger target. "Hey!"

Antherton spins on his heels and I'm instantly taken aback by the amount of blood smeared on his face- hopefully it's his own. The thought of him taking a bite out of someone disgusts me. He snarls, "Wait for your turn, Asshole!"

I bring my weapon around so he can see it and he laughs, "What, you're going to fight me with a stick?"

That's probably a good description for it at the moment, right now it looks like a sleek silver pole that's about two and a half feet long. I move my hand down and press the button on the butt of the staff. It makes a clicking sound as a flash of metal bursts from the opposite end, making my 'stick' an extra three feet long. Four prongs spring out of the tip of the pole, turning it into a five and a half foot long spear.

Antherton's eyes pop open, but he recovers from his surprise and he yells, "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my fucking way!"

I run forward and bring my arm back, ready to throw. I expect him to dart off to the side, and since his body is angled to the right I know he'll try to escape in that direction. I draw my stregth from my anger, and picture those girls he murdered with such joy; I see him open his mouth as I hurl my spear at him. Like I thought he would, he moves to the right, my overaiming compensates for his attempted avoidance.

Antherton stumbles backwards and clutches at my spear, which protrudes from his right thigh. I hadn't thought of him moving back, so my aim was off. He screams, in anger or pain- I don't know which, and pulls the spear from his leg with both hands. _What the Hell? _

Without hesitating, I reach behind my back and take another spear from my pack. Antherton sees me readying my weapon and turns around. He runs. I'm so startled all I can do is stand there for a second, then he disappears into the dark and ironically I find myself sprinting after him. I run past the girl, who is laying in a bloody heap, and follow the sounds of a stumbling Antherton. Yet, something stops me in my tracks; I literally skid to a halt in order to listen. It's a sound- a groan.

I turn around to look at the girl; she's alive. There's a faint movement, I think it's her hand.

Suddenly, I'm torn into pieces by three different decisions. I should go after Antherton and kill him; not just for what he's done already, but for what he could do if he heals- particularly to me. I should go after Antherton and kill him, but leave the girl. She's still the enemy. Then my final choice, I should stay here, and help that girl.

Then, I'm ashamed. My father would hate me if he knew I was even considering any other option but helping that girl. The president can force me to play these games, but he can't change who I am.

Taking a deep breath, I sprint back to the girl and kneel next to her head. I saw her with those knives in training, so I can't help but be wary of her abilities; for all I know she could be playing opposum. I check her belt to make sure there are no weapons that can be easily accessed. After I've eliminated the possibility of her killing me, I sit back on my haunches and ascess the damage. She's got blood seeping out the corner of her mouth and there's blood underneath her head on the concrete. Gingerly, I lift her to a sitting position and search the back of her head for the injury. My stomach drops when I see a two to three inch gash dripping blood along her skull.

Slowly, I put her back down and think. What can I do? I rummage through my pack for a first aid kit, but I don't have one. All I've got are weapons, a bit of food, and some water. "Great," I curse in frustration and rake my hand through my hair.

She had knives and a belt equiped with weapons. That means she got really close, maybe even into the Cornucopia. She has to have a first aid kit on her. I search her discarded backpack, and come up with zero medical supplies. Maybe something's in one of her pockets?

I reach for her leg when I stop about an inch from it. What if she wakes up and see's me going through her clothes? _God, that would be humiliating_.

I pat the side of her face, and try to wake her, "Um, hey. Wake up. Wake up." She turns her head away from my hand and groans.

Slouching in despair, I decide to just go for it. I start unbuttoning the pockets on her legs. I find wire, food, small pouches of water, little star shaped knives, but nothing else. God, please be in an arm pocket! I really don't want to go through the pockets on her chest!

Luck seems to be on my side when a small white box with a red cross on it slips out of a pocket just above her left elbow. Exhaling in relief, I open it and lay out a small stitching kit, butterfly stiches, bandages, tape, and alchol. Turning her over onto her stomach I proceed to clean and stitch the cut. When ever dad or I got hurt fishing, we had to stitch our own injuries- we couldn't afford doctors. But I wish we had one now. What if I sneeze and accidently push the needle into her brain? I shake that thought from my head and commence to sew the wound shut. She doesn't move a muscle the whole time, and at one point I think she might be dead. After I've fixed her head wound, I sit back on my heels and contemplate what to do next.

I poke her temple, but that just makes her head loll to the side. She's out like a light. I put my head in my hands. What am I doing? I can't protect everyone I come across. Even when I had the chance to kill that skinny kid from D3, I couldn't make myself do it. Am I weak? No, I tried to kill Antherton. So what does that mean? I'll only kill bad people? Not everyone here is bad, and anyway- who am I to decide things like that?

In the end I pick up the raven haired girl bridal style, and carry her for what seems like hours. By the time I think it's safe, I've worn myself out. I place her in an old broken down van on her side and cover her with a blanket from her pack. I put all her belongings under her seat and shut the sliding door.

I lay down in a car not too far away. This way, if she wakes up, she's has everything she needs, but won't know I'm there and can't kill me- or, if she's still unconscous by morning, I can do my best to wake her up, and then be on my own way.

Needless to say, nightmares keep me from going into any kind of decent sleep.

_**-Laveda D10-**_

"How many apples do we have, Laveda?"

I roll my eyes at Forrest, "50, exactly."

He cocks a brow, "No need to get lippy."

Wiping sweat off my forhead, I try pushing a box over to the weapons pile; instead of moving the box I put ruts in the ground. Forrest laughs heartily and I glare at him, "How about a little help?"

Still smiling, he walks over and simply picks the box up. Even though I'm fuming on the outside, a small sense of pride wells up in me. Right now, it seems like we have the best of the bunch in our group. Dusting my hands off on my pants, I decide to go over to Kenya to check up on her.

She's propped up against a wall, scribbling on a peice of paper. Her head jerks at the sound of me approaching. I supress a grimace when I see her face; a long bloody scar runs from her hairline, down the curve of her cheek bone, all the way to her chin. She raises her brows, "That bad, huh?"

I shake my head truthfully, "Maybe right now, but eventually it'll go away."

The first thing we did when we took the Cornucopia was tend to Kenya's wound. Primarily, we thought it was way worse- there was just so much blood. Her face was literally covered in blood.

Tiredly, I sit down beside her and pick at some grass growing up through the concrete. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her watching me closely. "What?", my tone comes out a little too defensive.

She shrugs, "Nothing, just thinking. Is everything sorted yet?" She nibbles on a fingernail, "I really hate that you guys wont let me freaking help."

I laugh, "Every time you stand up you fall back down. I don't think you're in a situation to help."

She shrugs. Kenya is starting to grow on me. At first, I thought she saw me as some weak kid, but really I think that she's just instinctively protective. The way she went after that Career for attacking Iris was incredible. "You know," I begin slowly, "I never thanked you."

She frowns, "For what?"

I look at her pointedly, "For saving my friend. So, thank you."

Her mouth takes on a bit of an 'O' shape, and she stares at a fingernail. "I thought you didn't like me."

I giggle, "You're right about that." She looks up at me questioningly, "At least, that's how I felt at first."

She smiles sadly, and I rock back and forth. Kenya is silent for a few seconds, then, "What are we going to do?"

My brows knit together, "What do you mean?"

She puts her hand in her lap, "What happens if we're all that's left in the end? Us four? Who wins?"

This is the question that's been torturing the group since training. I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around my legs, "I don't know," I say quietly. I've become best friends with Iris, but each passing minute I grow to like Kenya as well.

Once again she gives me that soul stare, "I could never kill you, or Iris."

I crack a smile, "What about Forrest?"

She laughs, "I don't know if I could physically kill him." Her voice sobers, "Anyway, I just didn't want you to think that I had anything like that in mind."

Awkwardly, I nod, "I, uh, I couldn't do that to you either."

I hope it's a promise I can keep.

I sit with her a little while longer, until I feel ready to get back to orginizing stuff. I help Iris move sacks of oranges to the food pile; the entire time I feel a tension between us. She refuses to look or talk to me. Finally, I tap her shoulder and ask what's up.

I see her nose scrunch under the lamp light, she starts to speak and then seems to change her mind, "Nothing. Just tired."

Snorting, I reach out to grab her arm as she moves away. I spin her around to face me, "It just seems like you're angry or something. Did I do something wrong?"

She shakes her head, puts her hands on her hips, then massages her forehead, "I just- I saw you talking- to Kenya." She scratches her scalp, "I just- it was stupid. I got jealous maybe."

I raise my brows, "Jealous?"

She shakes her head, "No, no, no, that's the wrong word... Worried?"

I take a step back, "What could you possibly have to be worried about? Iris, I'd like to think you're my friend, don't you trust me? What did you think we were talking about?" It hits me that she was thinking of betrayal, "You can't be serious."

She frowns and throws the sack of oranges in the food pile, "Please, don't be mad at me."

My voice takes on a harder edge, "Let's just forget about it." Turning away from Iris, I start to walk over to the weapons section to select things for tomorrow. I hear my friend follow me,

"Please, I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't hate you," I throw over my shoulder, "I'm just not happy with you right now."

She darts around in front of me; I'm momentarily distracted by the way she cradles her left arm. She grabs hold of me, "I'm sorry, okay? Just don't be mad at me."

This is when I see how young Iris truly is, and I feel bad for being angry with her. I offer her a small smile, "Okay. I forgive you." She beams, "But don't think you can get away with this so easily again."

She shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing, "It won't happen ever again. I'm sorry I ever doubted you in the first place."

"Let's just forget about it. We don't need to worry about that kind of thing anyway. We've got a lot to do in the morning." I put an arm around her shoulder and we both go pick out some weapons. Hunting starts tomorrow.

_**Deaths**_

_**-Tim D5-**_

I stare into the sun. Time creeps. Sounds blend together; volume decreasing with every passing second until all I can hear is wind in my ears. I put my arms out and feel the warmth of the light dancing across my skin. A single tear escapes my eye, but it's not one of sorrow. I haven't felt this alive in years.

"I'm so sorry brother...," I whisper.

I stick one foot out and step off my pedistal. Death succumbs me.

_**-Phoebe-**_

The screaming from the Cornucopia is still deafening; I have to fight not cover my ears. Tears stream down my face into my mouth. My arms pump at my sides, and my feet slap the ground in a harsh rythm. Why me? Why is she of all people following me?

The girl from D5 has been chasing me up and down alleys for the last five minutes. Adrenaline has kept me going thus far, now I feel it slipping away. My heart thunders in my chest, my lungs feel like they've disappeared completely. She's yelling at me- to keep running, that she's going to kill me.

I cut around a pile of bricks and debris, then trip over a pole that's sticking out. I land face first and skid a few feet on my belly. Dust fills my mouth and dirties my suit. My body fills with an intense pain and I scramble back to my feet, sobbing. I run around the side of the pile only to come to a dead stop in front of a sword weilding Monique. The small blonde snarls at me and waves her weapon around.

Turning on my heel, I sprint in the opposite direction. She actually darts past me so that she's facing me once more. I skid to a halt and back away cautiously, raising my hands, I start to beg, "Please," My voice breaks, "Please, don't-"

"_Run,_" She orders me.

My eyes widen, "What?"

She repeats herself, "Run!"

Sobbing, I spring backwards and run through the city streets. I run for my life. Eventually I get so tired that I simply stop. Panting, I staighten my back- I hear Monique breathing heavily behind me. I'm done. I think of my mom, of my friends, I smile at the memory of them. I cry when I think of my sibilings, I'll never see them again. I look up at the sky, and pray for a painless death.

"Pathetic," She hisses.

Her sword chops through my neck.

_**-Pip D9-**_

Tears blur my vision. I cry and cry and cry. I can't move, I'm frozen in place. I watch as people fight, as blood flys and splatters. I've never seen so much violence.

The big guy from District One runs at me. The world is chaos. I can't do anything but stand there. His hulking form towers over me. His face is terrifying- his smile evil. A peircing scream escapes my lips, a cry for help. It never comes. His hands wrap around my head, he twists and jerks- I am dead.

**IMPORTANT: If your tribute got hurt during this chapter, don't go asking to buy anything with your points yet! I'm going to make a list of things available and a set of guidlines to follow for the purchasing and use of items. There will also be a list on my profile of which tributes are dead, how many each has killed, and who tributes were killed by.**

**A/N: Yaaaaaaaaay! I finally finished! Sorry it took so long :(. So, how did you like it? I tried to create a varying set of scenarios: tributes were lost, new alliances were formed, battles were fought and won (or lost, depending on who you are) there was a rescue, a bit of drama. TELL ME! TELL ME!**

**Sorry for killing you: This section will be moved to my profile (You can look there for sad goodbyes from me, Shkittles, to deceased tributes). I just wanted to give you a preview and let you know to check it out. **

**Phoebe****- you will be missed. You were unique in ways most characters weren't. I was impressed that your creator had enough courage to give you flaws; you didn't have that typical beauty that most female tributes get in these things and that seperated you from the rest. It was nothing personal. Sorry Team Cato, I really wanted to keep her in this story much longer because she was different, but I haven't heard from you since you submitted her. I think you just forgot, I know it's hard to keep up with fanfiction these days, especially when you have your own SYOT to write. Thank you for submitting her! **

**Tim****- what can I say? We all knew it was coming. I think you are the bravest amongst the tributes. The fact that you saved someone from being reaped and that you saved someone else from the sin of commiting murder by killing yourself makes you the most courageous of the bunch. Sorry for blowing you to bits. Thanks for making something different jesster2345! His reason for volunteering inspired me when I got tired of writing the same thing over and over!**

**Pip****- don't be mad, you were a bloodbath from the begining, but you will be avenged! There are two really good guys (coughRay, coughZane) out to kill Antherton for his **_**sick, sick ways**_**, and I'm thinking there'll be even more tributes joining the cause as the story progresses. I thought you were the Heart Squeezer of the group! You always yanked a tear or two away from some people, on the plus side- you were a riot during training! Thanks for making such a memorable character Yelof530!**


	28. Spending Points: Chapter will be moved

**Spending Sponsor Points**

It is up to you to decide when you think your tribute needs something. This might sound a little unfair to some people, but if you think about it, in a real game it's all about taking a chance. You never know when your tribute might stumble across a creek, find a patch of berries, or steal a weapon. The only advice I can give you is this- better safe, than sorry... then again, don't bite off more than you can chew.

PM ME WHEN YOU WANT TO BUY STUFF!

Just tell me what you want, and I'll give you a price. When half the tributes are dead, prices will double with the death of every tribute. Remember, items become insanely expensive towards the end of the games. Does anyone recall when practically all of Rue's district had to pool together in order to give Katniss bread? This is what I base my logic on.

I will post a basic list of items to buy on my profile some time this week.

I've also decided to start giving the first three reviewers for each chapter more points. So the first three people to review for my latest chapter will receive a larger amount of points than usual! Congrats! And thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome!

1st Rev.- 15 points

2nd Rev.- 10 points

3rd Rev.- 5

Thanks again!


	29. Chapter 29

Hey guys! Sorry if I got you excited and thinking this was a new chapter, it's just a little explanation as to why I haven't wrote in so long.

I'm a freshman at a Christian university now (go ahead, laugh at me) and college papers have been dictating my life since day one. My day lasts from about six in the morning to six in the evening, after which I feed my horses and complete assignments. Thus far it's been quite a demanding situation and by ten O' clock I'm just ready to hit the sack.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again- I am not abandoning this story. I'm not even taking a break; I've just been too busy to work on it. Can you believe all the SYOTs that were deleted over this year? I lost like ten of my favorite stories! Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that I haven't quit.

Hope everyone had a fantastic summer and that all of you are enjoying school (though I can't say that my experience has been just peachy every day).


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